Chapter 3 – Lord Malvora, the Master of Greed
Lord Malvora, the human form of Greed, appears as a refined, ageless man with subtly metallic bronze-toned skin and sharp amber-gold eyes that seem to measure everything they see. Impeccably dressed in tailored dark suits with understated gold accents, he carries himself with quiet confidence and precision. His movements are controlled, his voice calm and persuasive, and his faint smile never reveals intent. In his presence, people feel an unexplainable urge to compare, to desire more, and to chase what they do not yet have—never quite satisfied, always wanting.
The Doctrine of Greed
“Another aspect of human nature is… Greed.”
The voice did not echo in the room.
It moved through it—quiet, deliberate, unavoidable.
Lord Malvora, the Master of Greed is also a Council Member. He sat in stillness. His eyes were closed.
Yet beneath the lids, something moved rapidly—restless, calculating, alive with unseen currents.
It was not asleep.
It was listening.
And somewhere far below—
the Great Leader felt it.
Use it.
“Give them something they will hold on to,” Malvora continued.
“Something they will protect… even from themselves.”
Images began to form in the Great Leader’s mind.
Homes.
Keys.
Ownership.
“Tell them,” Malvora said,
“that the value of their apartment will always rise.” Those peasants do not know about decaying lease on their apartments. Thought Malvora.
The Great Leader leaned forward slightly, his breath slowing.
“Convince them,” the voice pressed on,
“that they are becoming richer… simply by staying where they are.”
A flicker of understanding passed through him.
“Change the way value is measured,” Malvora continued.
“Adjust the calculations. Refine the language.”
A pause.
Then—
Let profit become perception.
The Great Leader’s lips curved.
“Let them believe,” Malvora whispered,
“that every transaction is a gain… even when nothing of substance has changed.”
The images sharpened.
Citizens celebrating.
Marcus lowered his voice slightly, as if the empty office might still be listening.
Numbers rising.
Screens glowing with valuation charts.
“And when they sell,” Malvora added,
“ensure they must buy again—at a higher cost.”
The Great Leader’s eyes lit up.
“Yes…”
“Call it progress,” Malvora said.
“Call it upgrading.”
A vision unfolded:
- Larger apartments
- Better districts
- Higher status
“They will chase it willingly,” Malvora continued.
“They will measure themselves against one another… and never feel they have enough.”
The Great Leader began to pace slowly.
“It’s brilliant.”
“They will bind themselves,” Malvora replied.
To debt.
The word lingered.
Heavy.
Precise.
“They will work longer,” Malvora continued, “think less, question less.”
The Great Leader stopped.
“Their minds will not turn toward resistance.”
“No,” Malvora answered.
“They will be occupied… sustaining the illusion they have chosen.”
Silence followed.
Above, unseen — the eyelids of Malvora remained closed.
The movement beneath them slowed.
Satisfied.
Far below, the Great Leader smiled.
Not loudly.
Not openly.
But with the quiet certainty of a man who had just learned
how to control an entire nation—
without ever touching them.
“That will make them feel that they have upgraded their social status in life! Hahaha!” laughed the Great Leader sinisterly.
In reality, the Sangkees will continue to be in debt to service their mortgage loans. “Their minds will be preoccupied with keeping their jobs, working to pay mortgages. They will have no time to think about political issues or think about changing the ruling PFP party! Hahaha!” laughed the Great Leader heinously once again.
Elsewhere in Sangkelilah…
The office had long emptied, but the lights remained—cold, unwavering, indifferent.
Rows of cubicles stretched into silence, their grey partitions casting long shadows across the carpet. Outside, the city pulsed with life, but here, time seemed suspended, trapped between the hum of fluorescent tubes and the quiet tapping of a single keyboard.
Daniel sat alone. The glow of his screen reflected faintly in his eyes. He read the email again.
The words did not change. They did not soften. They simply waited.
A voice broke the silence.
“Still here ah?”
Daniel turned.
Marcus stood at the edge of the cubicle, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, a half-finished coffee in his hand. He looked tired, but there was a lightness in him—an ease Daniel hadn’t felt in weeks.
“Yeah,” Daniel replied. “Just… finishing up.”
Marcus stepped closer, leaning casually against the partition.
“Bro,” he said with a grin, “if you get this promotion, drinks on you already.”
Daniel forced a small laugh.
“See first.”
“I heard it’s down to the two of us.”
The words hung between them.
Not heavy. Not yet. Just… present.
Daniel nodded slowly.
“Yeah. I heard the same.”
Marcus exhaled, then shrugged.
“Good lah. At least one of us will get it.”
There was no bitterness in his tone. Only certainty. Only trust.
Daniel glanced back at his screen. A document sat open.
Marcus’s report. Shared with him weeks ago.
Incomplete. Unpolished. Flawed.
Daniel had seen the errors the moment he opened it. Sections that didn’t align. Numbers that didn’t reconcile. Assumptions that wouldn’t survive scrutiny.
Marcus had trusted him to review it. To help.
“Eh,” Marcus said suddenly, pulling Daniel back.
“You saw my draft right?”
Daniel’s fingers stilled above the keyboard.
“Any issues?” asked Marcu.
The cursor blinked. Steady. Patient. Waiting.
Daniel gulped silently.
“No lah,” he said, his voice even. “Looks solid.”
Marcus broke into a grin, relief washing over his face.
“Thanks, bro. Knew I could count on you.”
He gave Daniel’s shoulder a light pat, then straightened.
“Don’t stay too late, okay? Tomorrow still got meeting.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yeah.”
Marcus walked away, his footsteps fading into the hollow quiet of the office.
A moment later, the elevator doors closed with a soft chime.
And then — Silence returned.
Daniel stared at the screen. At the report. At the mistakes.
Another window was open. An email draft.
No recipient. No subject. Just an empty body.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling. He thought of the promotion.
The title. The salary. The recognition.
The life that would follow.
Then, uninvited—Marcus’s voice.
“Knew I could count on you.”
Daniel exhaled slowly. His gaze returned to the screen.
A few clicks. The report attached. His finger hovered over the mouse.
For a moment, something resisted. A quiet voice. Faint. Almost gone.
Then another voice rose to meet it. Clearer. Sharper. Practical.
If not you, then him.
If not now, then never.
The cursor moved. Click. Send.
The sound was almost insignificant. Barely audible.
But something shifted.
Two weeks later, the office was no longer quiet.
Voices murmured. Chairs moved. Phones rang. Life had returned.
Marcus stood at his desk, packing his belongings into a cardboard box.
Slowly. Carefully. As if taking his time might change the outcome.
“I didn’t expect this,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
Daniel adjusted his tie. A new one. Slightly sharper than before.
“Yeah,” Daniel replied. “Tough luck.”
Marcus nodded faintly, then looked up.
His eyes met Daniel’s. There was no anger in them.
No accusation. Only something softer.
Something heavier.
“I thought we were on the same side,” Marcus said quietly.
The words lingered. Longer than they should have.
Daniel held his gaze for a moment. Then looked away.
“I had to think about my future.”
Marcus said nothing. He simply nodded. Once.
Then he turned back to his box. He knew he had been betrayed. He vowed to himself to get vengence another day.
Around them, the office continued as if nothing had happened.
As if nothing had changed. But Daniel knew. Something had.
And it was not the promotion. Greed had made him betrayed his friend.
Relationships give way to Greed…
Rain pressed softly against the windows, a steady rhythm that filled the silence between them.
The apartment was small, but it had always felt enough.
Until tonight.
Chloe stood by the table, her fingers resting on a glossy brochure. The pages caught the dim light, reflecting images of glass towers, infinity pools, and impossible views of a city that never seemed to sleep.
“Look at this,” she said, her voice carrying a quiet urgency. “This is what we should be aiming for.”
Jason didn’t look up immediately. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor as if the answer might be written there.
“We can’t afford that,” he said finally.
“Not now,” Chloe replied quickly. “But why think so small?”
Jason lifted his head. “Small?” he echoed.
She turned to him, her eyes searching his face, as if trying to understand something that no longer made sense.
“I just don’t want this to be it,” she said, gesturing vaguely around the apartment. “This… this can’t be all we settle for.”
Jason followed her gaze. The worn sofa. The chipped coffee table.
The quiet corners that had once held laughter.
“I thought we were happy,” he said. Chloe let out a soft laugh, but there was no warmth in it.
“Happy?” she repeated. “Jason… happy doesn’t pay for a future.”
The words landed harder than she intended. Or perhaps exactly as intended.
“In competitive environments, hesitation is the difference between success and irrelevance.”
“Those who rise are not always the most ethical—only the most decisive.”
Silence stretched between them. Only the rain dared to speak.
“My colleague just bought one,” she continued, softer now, but sharper somehow. “Same age as you.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “Oh yeah? Good for him.”
“He’s not smarter than you,” Chloe said quickly. “He’s just… hungrier.”
Something flickered across Jason’s face.
Not anger. Not yet.
Something quieter. Something breaking.
“So that’s what this is about?” he asked. “I’m not hungry enough?”
Chloe hesitated. For a moment, she almost reached for him.
Almost. “I just don’t want to fall behind,” she said.
Jason stood up slowly. “And I don’t want to lose what we already have.”
Their eyes met. And for the first time, they were not looking at the same future.
“You don’t understand,” Chloe whispered.
“No,” Jason replied, his voice steady but hollow. “I think I do.”
She crossed her arms, as if shielding herself from something unseen.
“I don’t want to be stuck,” she said. “I don’t want to wake up ten years later and realise we never moved forward.”
Jason let out a quiet breath.
“And I don’t want to wake up and realise we traded everything that mattered… just to chase something that never ends.”
The room fell still. Chloe looked at him.
Really looked. And what she saw unsettled her.
“You’re afraid,” she said.
Jason didn’t deny it.
“Yes,” he said. “I am.”
A pause. Then, softer—
“But not of what you think.”
Chloe’s voice hardened.
“I just don’t want to be with someone who has no ambition.”
The words slipped out. Sharp. Irreversible.
Jason flinched, almost imperceptibly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Because both of them knew — Something had just changed.
That night, Jason lay awake. Chloe slept beside him, her breathing soft, distant. But her words lingered. Over and over.
“Someone who has no ambition…”
He stared at the ceiling. At the cracks. At the quiet.
Then, slowly, he reached for his phone.
The screen lit up. A trading app. Bright. Clean. Promising.
Numbers moved. Charts pulsed. Opportunities whispered.
High leverage. High risk. High reward.
Jason’s finger hovered above the screen.
He thought of Chloe. Of the brochure. Of the life she wanted.
Then he pressed — Confirm.
Outside, the rain continued to fall. Unchanged. Inside, something had already begun.
Chloe’s greed had prompted him to make a risky bet on his forex trade.
Across the City in a bar…
The bar was louder than it needed to be.
Music pulsed through the walls, vibrating in the chest more than the ears. Lights flickered in restless patterns, casting shifting colours across faces that blurred into one another.
Ryan liked it that way. Noise made things easier.
He leaned back in his seat, the leather couch soft beneath him, a glass of amber liquid resting loosely in his hand.
Across from him, Ethan watched.
Quiet. Observant. Ryan placed his watch on the table.
Deliberately. It caught the light instantly—sharp, polished, undeniable.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Since when you so rich?”
Ryan smirked, swirling his drink. “Things change.”
Ethan chuckled softly. “Ya lah. But still the same guy what.”
Ryan didn’t respond immediately. He took a sip, letting the silence stretch just enough to be noticed.
“Not really,” he said at last.
Ethan’s smile faded slightly. “What do you mean?”
Ryan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
“Some people grow,” he said, his tone calm, measured. “Some people stay where they are.”
The words landed quietly. But they did not feel quiet.
Ethan leaned back. “Right,” he said.
He didn’t ask what Ryan meant. He already knew.
For a while, they sat in silence, the music filling the gaps where conversation used to live.
Ryan glanced at his phone. Messages. Notifications. Movement.Always movement.
Ethan looked around the bar. At the crowd.
At the people who seemed to belong here.
Then he looked back at Ryan. At the watch.
At the confidence that now seemed… rehearsed.
“You happy?” Ethan asked suddenly.
Ryan paused. Just for a fraction of a second.
Then he smiled. “Of course.”
But something in the answer felt incomplete.
Even to him. Ethan nodded slowly.
“Good.” He finished his drink in silence.
Later that night, they stepped out into the cool air.
The noise of the bar faded behind them, replaced by the distant hum of the city.
Ryan’s car was parked nearby. Sleek. New. Reflective.
He unlocked it with a soft beep.
“Catch up again soon,” Ryan said casually.
“Yeah,” Ethan replied.
But neither of them believed it.
Ryan got into the car. The engine purred to life.
Then, without hesitation — He drove off.
Ethan stood there. Alone.
The streetlight above him flickered faintly, casting a pale glow over the empty pavement. He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Looked down. Then up again. The road stretched ahead.
Quiet. Unimpressed.
He let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.
“Guess I’m not at his level anymore,” he murmured.
The words sounded strange. Unfamiliar. They had never spoken like that before. Never measured themselves like that.
But now — It felt natural. And that was what unsettled him most.
Ryan was no longer the same man as before.
The office had long emptied, but the lights remained—cold, unwavering, indifferent.
Daniel sat alone, the glow of his screen reflecting faintly in his eyes.
Senior Manager Position – Final Recommendation Pending.
The words did not change.
They simply waited.
Alexis visits a Professor with his Father…
The lecture hall smelled faintly of varnished wood and recycled air—sterile, controlled, like everything else in Sangkelila.
At the front stood Professor Chan, his chubby frame silhouetted against a glowing panel of data streams. Lines of statistics pulsed behind him—charts tracking “Happiness Index”, “Freedom Metrics”, and the newest addition:
“Intimacy Consumption Rate.”
A number that had risen too quickly.
Too sharply.
Too quietly.
“Numbers,” Professor Chan began, his voice calm but edged with something brittle, “do not lie. But they can be made to conceal.”
A murmur rippled through the hall.
In the third row sat Alexis, her fingers interlocked tightly. Beside her, her father—Viktor—sat with a stillness that felt anything but calm.
“This is how a lecture looks like, Darling, when you attend college in future,” said Viktor smiling at his daughter.
Alexis was awed by the size of the lecture theatre. After all she was still a secondary school student.
Alexis leaned slightly toward him, voice barely audible.
“Dad… please,” she whispered. “Don’t ask anything today.” She felt that she would be embarassed and attention will be drawn to her.
Viktor didn’t respond. “Don’t worry, Darling, the Professor is my old friend,” said Viktor assuring her daughter. Alexis pursed her lips.
But something in his posture shifted—subtle, deliberate.
At the front, Professor Chan tapped the panel.
The graph shifted. A downward slope.
“Relationship Stability Index,” he said softly. “Down twenty-three percent over five years.”
Another flick.
“Reported Emotional Fulfilment—down thirty-one percent.”
A pause.
Then — “Physical Engagement Metrics—up forty-eight percent.”
The room fell silent.
Alexis closed her eyes briefly.
Not today…
“Dad,” she whispered again, more urgent now. “Don’t antagonise him.”
A faint breath escaped Viktor.
“Antagonise?” he murmured.
A beat. “Or remind him?”
Alexis’s stomach tightened.
At the front, Professor Chan’s gaze swept across the hall.
It slowed. Stopped. Locked.
On Viktor. Something unspoken passed between them.
Recognition. History. Many years ago, he still had them in his memories.
A question neither dared to ask aloud. Professor Chan turned back to the display.
“Policy,” he continued, voice steady, “is not merely governance. It is behavioral architecture.”
“Change the inputs… and you reshape the human condition.”
A student raised his hand. “Professor, are you suggesting the recent… liberalisation policies are responsible?”
The room leaned in.
Alexis didn’t. She didn’t really understand what the Professor was teaching.
She was watching her father. Viktor leaned forward.
“Or is it,” he said, voice cutting cleanly through the room, “that people are being conditioned to mistake stimulation for meaning?”
A ripple. Sharper this time. Alexis grabbed his sleeve lightly.
“Dad… stop,” she whispered, panic creeping in. “You know how this works.”
At the front, Professor Chan did not react immediately.
He remained still. Too still.
Then slowly — he turned.
“Some questions,” Professor Chan said, measured and precise, “have a longer history than this classroom.”
A pause. His eyes held Viktor’s.
“And some people,” he added quietly, “have been asking them for far too long.”
A flicker of something—almost a smile—touched Viktor’s face.
“Then perhaps,” Viktor replied, “they’ve never been properly answered.”
Alexis’s grip tightened.
“Please,” she said under her breath. “Not here. Not like this.”
For a moment — just a moment — Viktor hesitated.
Professor Chan tapped the screen again.
“…demand,” he said, continuing the lecture, “can be engineered.”
Silence settled. But it was no longer neutral.
Another student raised her hand to speak. “Professor… if people don’t realise they’re being shaped… how can they resist it?”
Professor Chan looked at her.
Then his eyes caught a familiar face – Viktor! I did not expect him…and Alexis too. He thought. They waved a gentle high five at the Prof with a smile.
“They can’t,” he said softly, turning his gaze back to the student.
A pause. “But a few… begin to feel that something is wrong,” the Prof continued.
Viktor held his gaze. Unflinching.
“And when enough of them feel it,” Professor Chan continued, “they begin to ask questions.”
A beat. “Questions,” he added, “are the first cracks in any system.”
The bell chimed, reverberating through the lecture theatre.
Students began to leave, streaming out like liquid flowing out from a bottle.
At the front, Professor Chan powered down the display.
The room dimmed.
“Let’s go Dad, I need an afternoon snack,” said Alexis feeling her stomach growl. She was a growing teenager.
“Hold on awhile, Darling. Let’s go get Uncle Prof Chan and have tea together,” replied Vitkor to Alexis’. Of course, Uncle Prof Chan would love that…seeing the size of his frame had grown since the last time she saw him with Viktor.
“Viktor, old buddy! What a nice surprise!” said the Prof laughing heartily as he gave Viktor a big teddy bear hug, almost enveloping him with his big frame.
“Watch it Prof, don’t crush my bones! Or Alexis will make sure you pay for it!” said Viktor quietly, almost gasping for breath.
“Alexis! Wow! How tall and beautiful you’ve become since we last met!” exclaimed Prof Chan releasing Viktor and stretching out his arms to hug Alexis next.
“You too, Uncle Prof Chan! You’ve become a big Teddy Bear!” exclaimed Alexis happily melting into the elderly man’s embrace. Growlll…growlll…the growls came from Alexis and her cheeks turned red. Ooops!
“You must be hungry, young lady. Let’s head down to the Dome, there’s a nice cosy cafeteria there that serves the most savoury sandwiches and desserts,” said Prof Chan whose smile stretched like a Cheshire cat!
Afterward, the three of them walked in silence toward the Dome.
Downtown Sangkelilah Dome rose before them—vast, gleaming, almost unreal under the afternoon light. Glass curved into the sky, reflecting a city that looked too perfect to question.
Alexis stopped.
“Wow,” she said quietly. “It’s… beautiful.”
Prof Chan followed her gaze. “Yes,” he said.
Then, after a pause — “It is.”
They settled into a quiet corner of a tea lounge overlooking the city.
Porcelain cups. Soft light. The distant hum of controlled perfection.
Viktor lifted his cup.
“Still remember the old days?” he asked.
Prof Chan smiled faintly.
“Which part? The chaos or the optimism?”
“The part where we thought we knew what we were doing.”
Prof Chan laughed softly.
“That narrows it down very little.”
Alexis watched them carefully.
“You both were there… at the beginning?” he asked.
Viktor leaned back.
“We didn’t just watch it happen,” he said. “We helped build the new Republic.”
Chan added quietly, “Or at least… we thought we did.”
Alexis frowned. “What does that mean?” She belonged to the Millenial Generation, born long after the Republic of Sangkelila was established.
Chan stirred his tea slowly.
“In the early days,” he said, “nothing was certain. Everything was in a chaos. Until one day, I discovered something.”
Viktor nodded. “Let’s not talk about that, Prof. It almost cost you your life!”
Alexis popped up her head from her plate of sandwich and french fries.
“Yes, not just mine but my entire family,” Chan added, eyes turning teary.
Alexis glanced out at the Dome again.
“And now?”
Chan set his cup down. “Now,” he said carefully, “I think they’re into a very different ball game.”
Viktor let out a quiet breath. “What you mean, Prof?” asked Viktor eyebrows furrowed.
Alexis looked between them.
Prof Chan met Viktor’s eyes. “What do you think of the Liberalisation of Adult Content Bill?”
Silence settled over the table.
Viktor leaned forward slightly. “Do you remember the day independence was declared? They promised that this country will have more freedom and less censorship,” he said.
Prof Chan’s expression frowned. “How could I forget? The question is why liberalisation of adult content but not political views?”
“Who doesn’t want to hold on to power?” Viktor continued
Prof Chan smiled faintly. “Yes, holding on at all cost. At whose costs?”
Viktor nodded slowly.
“I remembered you said that you heard voices,” Viktor said, “voices asking you to join them.”
Prof Chan glanced at him. Until today, he still hears them but choose to ignore them.
“And do you still hear them these days?” asked Viktor.
“No, I’m not interested to join them.” replied Prof Chan. He looked out at the Dome.
At the perfect lines. The endless motion. The autonomous vehicles floating along invisible tracks in the sky.
“This Republic is being controlled by something, some entity that is far more powerful than we see in Parliament,” Prof Chan said quietly.
Alexis shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What do you mean?”
Chan and Viktor exchanged a brief glance. They did not want to scare a young innocent teenage girl.
“Tell me more about, Uncle Prof Chan…or I’m not going to talk to you anymore,” pestered Alexis and showing a small tantrum.
“Time will tell, my dear,” said Prof Chan, gently holding Alexis hands. He hoped that that time will never come.
A notification lit up Alexis’s phone. She glanced down instinctively.
“Dad, I think it’s time to go for my ballet lesson,” said Alexis reminding Viktor.
“Right, old buddy, it’s a shame that time passes fast when we drink tea and chit chat,” said Viktor standing up and giving Prof Chan a hug.
“No worries, we’ll meet up again. Let me get the bill, my pleasure to have you come into town to see me,” said Prof Chan, now giving Alexis another big teddy bear hug. “See you again the next time, Darling.”
Beyond the glass panels of the Dome, perched on the slender edge of a sculpted steel beam, a small bird sat unnaturally still. Its feathers caught the light just enough to appear ordinary, but its eyes did not blink. They remained fixed—watching, listening—not to the words alone, but to the spaces between Prof Chan, Viktor and Alexis. It was an agent for the Minister of Lust, trained in surveillance and reconnaisance. It was recording and sending every word back to the Minister!
“Dad, my friends seemed to have changed,” said Alexis to Viktor as they were on the way home. Viktor’s eyes were glued to road as downtown traffic was always unpredictable due to the stressful drivers in the city.
“In what way?” replied Viktor, eyes still on the road.
“Before, they seemed more interested in sharing and talking. We should to laugh, giggle and yak about almost everything,” lamented Alexis looking at her Father.
“Well, all of you are grown up teenagers now. Your friends probably are now a bit more reserve and careful about what they share and yak about,” explained Viktor wishing that they could get of the peak hour jam in Downtown Sangkelila in an instant.
“It’s not that, Dad,” said Alexis. “Their behaviour has changed too. It’s like they will come to me when I have something good to share or give to them,” continued Alexis. “They have become realistic. Buy me a Gong-Cha and I’ll share with you the juicy story,” lamented Alexis again.
“Can you imagine…1 of the students I heard was even setting a target of getting 7 free bubble milk tea drinks in a week! That’s 1 a day!” Alexis said disapprovingly of her fellow students.
“I think they might have learnt it from their parents,” explained Viktor feeling more relieved as they cleared the bottleneck in the traffic. “Behaviours are mainly learned. Your fellow students must have caught it from their parents or some social media. Great! Now we can get home in 10 minutes!” said Viktor as they entered the highway to their home.
“Maybe it’s better to make friends with a pet the next time,” said Alexis in jest.
Little did she know what Fate had in store for her.
Social Engineering in Sangkelila
Across the city, thousands made the same decisions just like Daniel, Ryan and Jason – At the same time. The Social Engineering in Sangkelila had began and producing the results that were expected.
In another part of the Republic at the Council Headquarters site…
The Minister of Greed, Malvora, as one of the Coucil Members, was standing in front of the gargantuan screen showing the metrics of Greed Index Level of the Sangkees.
“Engagement levels rising, Sire,” announced the Operator
“Emotional dependency increasing,” announced another Operator
“Continue optimisation!” ordered Malvora. “I want the maximum level to be reached withink the next 3 hours!”
Almost 3 hours later…
“Engagement and Emotional Dependency levels have hit maximum level, Sire,” announced the Operator.
“Wonderfull! Livestream to the other Council Members, now…” he communicated telepathetically to the operator. In an instant, the Approval icon from the other Council Members flashed on the screen.
Fantastic! Now I shall feast! Malvora proceeded to his dining table.
“Sire, your meal is served,” the souless humanoid floating in mid-air presented a plate of soft brain tissues extracted from Sangkees who had been executed for various crimes. Council Member Greed proceeded to scoop up the brain fluid. Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! could be heard as the liquid brain tissues were sucked into its mouth.
“Ah that’s quite a fresh serving! Burp!” said the Greed Council Member.
The humanoid next brought a live hen with its feet and wings bind up. The hen jerked it’s head from side to side, visibly uncomfortable due to both its wings and legs are tied. “Untie me! Untie me!,” it seemed to be cockadooling. In a flash, a silver blade held by the humanoid slit across the neck of the hen! Red hot blood began splurting out from it’s neck! A wine decanter was placed below the slit neck to collect the fresh blood. A full wine decanter was collected. “Let me have it, quick! It smells heavenly!” remarked the Council Member Greed.
Just then, a portal opened up.
“Hahaha! smells like great stuff!” said the Gluttony Council Member.
Before the humanoid could hand it a glass of fresh blood, Gluttony snatched the entire wine decanter of blood from it and started sloshing it down obnoxious blob of a body!
The Sangkees lived in apartments which are built by the Sangkelila Public Housing Authority (SPHA) with a Member of Parliament (MP) who reported directly to the Great Leader. “My Honourable Leader, I’m proud to report that next year there will be 100,000 new apartments entering our Sangkelila market,” the MP for SPHA said proudly. Excellent! Thought The Great Leader as he could the wealth in his bank account rising. Its not enough to be the richest politician in the world, I want to achieve the highest spirituality through wealth! In the Spiritual Universe, the one who attains the highest level needs to give up all it’s wealth, the more wealth given up the higher spiritual level achieved. The Great Leader opened his communication links with Sangkelila Branch of the Spiritual World Population Network (SWPN).
He was connected with an agent in a fraction of a second. I want to buy 10,000 souls and brains. He placed the order with the agent. Within 2 minutes he received an acknowledgement: Order confirmed for 10,000 souls and brains. Total amount payable: 1,000,000 Sangkee Dollars. In the Operations Department of SWPN, messages were transmitted simultaneously to souls and brains harvesters drifting around Sangkelila. They were known as Soul Snatchers. They were never publicly acknowledged by the Sangkelila authorities. However, whenever a lifeless body was found with it’s brains ripped out from it’s skull, it was always attributed to the superstitious beliefs that the soul and brain were snatched by the Soul Snatchers.
Just two days ago, the Sangkelila Times reported that two lifeless bodies were found in that manner. One was found at a park bench, lifeless and it’s brains gouged out. The other was found floating in the sea off Sangkelila East Coast Beach, in the same manner lifeless with it’s brains gouged out.
As soon as the Soul Snatchers received the message, they took off from their nests, unseen to the uninitiated eyes, hidden around Sangkelila. “Let’s get to work Comrades! We have a big order to fill! Hahahaha! Aren’t you all hungry?” roared the Section Leader of the Soul Snatchers.
The Great Leader looked at his achievement level status to attain the highest spirituality. Hmm…just another 100,000 souls and brains more to reach. That should not be too difficult. He thought to himself and smiled. Ten more orders of 10,000 souls and brains each. In total $10,000,000 to spend before attaining his spiritual coronation!
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