84: A billion-dollar bounty! The capitalists are panicking and have begun physically exorcising the beautiful Empress.

On the other side, inside a conference room at The Pentagon.

Secretary of Defense Mark Thompson sat at the head of the table. The surface before him was hard and cold. Surrounding him was the true collection of power in the United States.

The directors of the CIA, FBI, and NSA, along with several men in sharp suits representing Wall Street financial capital and the massive military-industrial complex.

The meeting had only one agenda item.

To select a Master for the "Protector of the Nation," Roosevelt, who was absolutely loyal to the United States.

"The candidate must be provided by the CIA," the CIA Director spoke first, his fingers interlaced on the table. "We have the world's top agents, experts in infiltration, subversion, and intelligence gathering. They know how to guide a strategic asset."

"No," the FBI Director countered immediately. "Roosevelt is currently active on domestic soil, which is the FBI's jurisdiction. We need an agent who understands the domestic situation perfectly and whose loyalty has been tested at home, not a spy accustomed to playing games overseas."

"Loyalty?" The man representing the military-industrial complex let out a cold sneer. "The loyalty records of your two agencies aren't exactly glorious. This 'Master' will wield power that likely far exceeds nuclear weapons. This person must be a soldier—a soldier who obeys orders absolutely, with a sense of honor etched into their bones."

The banker representing Wall Street slowly and methodically adjusted his cufflinks.

"Gentlemen, let's not lose sight of the point. Mr. Roosevelt's abilities are, in essence, economic and financial. If you let a bunch of brutes who only understand guns and wiretapping be his Master, do you want him to reset Goldman Sachs to zero as well? This person must understand finance and the operation of capital. We recommend the current CEO of Morgan Stanley."

"A capitalist? You want him to command a Heroic Spirit capable of forced taxation? Are you trying to let the fox guard the henhouse!" the CIA Director raised his voice.

"It's better than letting a mad dog who only knows how to kill guide civilization!" the banker shot back, refusing to back down.

The arguing in the conference room grew louder and louder.

Each faction refused to yield, everyone wanting to grasp this world-upending power in their own hands.

Thompson slammed his hand heavily on the table.

"Silence!"

No one paid him any mind.

The arguing turned into shouting; accusations and threats echoed through the enclosed space.

Thompson pounded the table again, but it did nothing to calm the scene.

Just then, a young assistant burst in, ignoring all security protocols.

His uniform was soaked with sweat, and he was gasping for breath from running.

The shouting in the conference room stopped abruptly.

All eyes focused on this uninvited guest, and the atmosphere instantly dropped to freezing point.

The assistant didn't speak; he simply stepped quickly to Thompson and placed a tablet on the table.

The screen was lit, playing a global emergency live broadcast from an international news channel.

A news anchor's voice came through the tablet's speakers.

"Just three minutes ago, Archer Roosevelt issued his second new deal decree through all global public network platforms, social media, and broadcasting systems."

The footage on the tablet switched, and Roosevelt's gentle yet firm face appeared on the screen.

He was still sitting in his wheelchair, with the early morning of Washington Monument Park in the background.

"Citizens of America, monopoly is the cancer of the free market, and the abuse of data violates the dignity of every individual. Since the old order cannot restrain itself, then I shall be the one to bring it to an end."

The content of the decree was clearly displayed at the bottom of the screen, every word landing like a heavy bomb.

"Effective immediately, a 75% 'Data Monopoly Tax' is levied on the seven tech giants: Apple, Google, Microsoft, Amazon, Meta, Tesla, and Nvidia."

Dead silence fell over the conference room.

The expressions of the representatives who had been arguing so fiercely moments ago were now frozen.

The hand of the banker representing Wall Street, which had just finished adjusting his cufflink, froze in mid-air.

The directors of the CIA and FBI had looks of utter absurdity on their faces.

The agent of the military-industrial complex subconsciously looked toward Secretary of Defense Thompson.

Everyone's gaze eventually converged on that small, still-glowing screen.

The moment Roosevelt declared the new decree, at the Nasdaq Data Center in New Jersey, the alarms didn't even have time to sound.

Within its core server arrays, the massive data chains representing the total market value of tech stocks were forcibly rewritten at their fundamental logic by an incomprehensible power—without any trading orders or any process of rising or falling.

The Nasdaq Composite Index in the upper right corner of the screen—that number representing the peak of human technology and wealth—didn't even have time to flicker.

It went directly from an astronomical figure to a cold '0'.

Trillions of dollars in tech market value vanished into thin air.

They didn't disappear; rather, they were forcibly converted into the purest form of invisible energy by Roosevelt's Noble Phantasm.

The next second, in the sky above the North American continent, high in the heavens—

A rain of golden light, even more massive and brilliant than the one that destroyed Wall Street, emerged from the sky.

The scope of the light rain was so vast it almost covered the entire map of the United States.

Like a GPS with a life of its own, they precisely bypassed bustling commercial districts and wealthy villas, turning into billions of tiny streaks of light that fell vertically.

The targets were every family in America registered in the federal tax system with an annual household income below the poverty line.

From run-down apartments in Brooklyn, New York, to the Rust Belt of Detroit; from simple wooden cabins in the Appalachian Mountains to trailer parks on the outskirts of California.

Tens of millions of cheap, cracked-screen, or even long-overdue cell phones simultaneously erupted with the text message notification sound of a bank deposit.

[Your account **** has received a 'new deal Subsidy' transfer: $2,854.00]

[Your account **** has received a 'new deal Subsidy' transfer: $4,128.00]

[Your account **** has received a 'new deal Subsidy' transfer: $975.00]

In varying amounts, 'new deal Subsidies' ranging from several hundred to several thousand dollars were injected directly into the personal accounts of every impoverished person without any delay or review.

After a brief moment of shock came a volcanic eruption of ecstasy.

Countless families fell into a state of unbelievable fervor.

People rushed into the streets from dilapidated apartments, moldy basements, and cramped trailers.

They held up portraits of Roosevelt and their phones showing bank balances as if they were holding holy relics.

In every street and alleyway, the cheers that erupted converged into a tsunami that submerged the entire country.

They revered him as a savior.

"My God! Long live Roosevelt!"

"He really did it! He's really saving us!"

...Inside the conference room at The Pentagon.

The capital agent representing the Silicon Valley tech giants stared intently at the emergency report he had just received on his phone from the group's Chief Financial Officer.

[Market value has been reset to zero.]

[All digital assets have been forcibly canceled.]

[We... are bankrupt.]

"Aaaaaaaah!"

A shrill roar broke the dead silence.

The agent's eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like a madman as he slammed his phone onto the floor and screamed at Secretary of Defense Mark Thompson.

"Kill him! Use every means! B-2s, Tomahawks, or nukes! I don't care what method you use, right now! Immediately! Erase this monster for me!"

At the same time, an unprecedentedly massive smear campaign against Roosevelt was instantly launched across the global network.

Countless mainstream media outlets, well-known economists, and Ivy League scholars began frantically publishing articles and videos.

"Roosevelt's actions are economic suicide! He will destroy the foundation of the free market!"

"This isn't a new deal; this is absolute tyranny! It's the Red Terror of the 21st century!"

"A specter, a specter of communism, is haunting North America!"

...However, these carefully crafted statements, which would have been enough to cause social upheaval at any other time in the past, seemed utterly pale and weak in the face of tens of millions of people who had received cold, hard cash.

Under any post or news story smearing Roosevelt, the comment section was submerged within minutes by a tidal wave of uniform comments.

"I received $2,000, what about you?"

"My whole family got money, we can pay next month's rent, what about you?"

"Shut up, piece of shit, I only believe my bank account."

"I got my money, what about you?"

This sentence became the most indestructible shield of this era, shattering all smears and attacks upon impact.

The public opinion war ended in a crushing defeat for the elite class within the first hour.

Switzerland, deep in the Alps.

Inside a secret manor not open to the public, with security levels comparable to a military base.

Over a dozen of the world's top capital oligarchs held an emergency meeting via encrypted video.

Their faces were hidden in the shadows, but every name was enough to make the world economy tremble.

"Public opinion has failed," a raspy German accent spoke. "He has bought off the bottom tier in the most primitive and savage way."

"Conventional military means have also proven ineffective," another British accent chimed in. "He seems to be able to control our military's equipment."

"He himself doesn't even have a fixed physical form; he can appear and disappear at any time."

After a brief silence, an old but highly authoritative voice summarized.

"Gentlemen, we must admit that conventional means can no longer stop Roosevelt."

"We can no longer rely on the government, nor on the media."

"We must resort to the most extreme physical elimination measures."

Everyone understood the meaning of those words.

The video conference ended.

An anonymous assassination contract with a total value of one hundred billion dollars was simultaneously posted through encrypted channels on the highest-authority mission lists of the world's top ten mercenary organizations and dark web hitman platforms.

In the target column of the contract, there was only one word.

Archer.

In the mission requirements column, there was only one sentence.

Physical elimination, at any cost.