When the veil between worlds thinned and eventually tore, the global economy didn't just crash; it inverted. Reality was suddenly flooded by the "Spectral Incursion," and the paper money of the living became worthless overnight. In its place emerged Nethernotes—shadowy, shimmering bills that pulsed with a cold, necrotic energy. While the masses panicked and the brave fought for single denominations to buy a night of safety from the restless spirits, Morgan saw the shift for what it truly was: the greatest arbitrage opportunity in human history. He didn't just survive the apocalypse; he bought it out.
Morgan had spent his previous life as a ruthless hedge fund manager, and he transitioned those skills into the new world with chilling efficiency. While others were hoarding canned beans and ammunition, Morgan was liquidating his hidden offshore accounts into the only asset that mattered. He had discovered a method to bridge the gap between digital wealth and ghostly currency before the markets fully collapsed. By the time the sky turned a permanent shade of bruised purple, he wasn't just wealthy; he was holding trillions in Nethernotes, a sum that dwarfed the combined wealth of every surviving government.
The power of Nethernotes wasn't just in their trade value; they were the literal substance of the new world’s laws. Ghosts, demons, and ethereal entities didn't care for gold, but they hungered for the essence contained within the notes. Morgan realized that with enough capital, he could purchase the loyalty of the very horrors that haunted the streets. He began his expansion by buying up "Haunted Real Estate"—vast swaths of land that were previously uninhabitable. While survivors huddled in basement bunkers, Morgan moved into a sprawling Victorian estate guarded by a legion of spectral knights.
With trillions at his disposal, Morgan began to rewrite the rules of existence. He understood that in this new era, land was not just space, but a sanctuary or a cage. He purchased the rights to major city centers, paying the resident spirits in astronomical sums of Nethernotes to act as his private security force. He established "Gold Zones," fortified estates where the laws of physics remained stable and the ghosts were kept at bay by his payroll. To live in Morgan’s world, you didn't pay in blood or service; you paid in the very currency he now controlled entirely.
As his influence grew, Morgan became the ultimate rule-setter. He established the "Nether-Bank," a centralized institution that regulated the flow of spectral currency. By controlling the supply, he effectively controlled the survival of the human race. He wasn't a king by divine right, but a sovereign by financial dominance. Even the most powerful spectral entities began to defer to him; after all, he was the only being capable of funding their ethereal appetites. He had turned the apocalypse into a managed corporate merger, and he sat at the head of the boardroom table.
The beauty of Morgan’s empire lay in its absolute stability amidst the chaos. While warlords fought petty battles for scrap metal, Morgan was acquiring "Conceptual Assets"—he bought the rights to the wind, the silence of the night, and even the shadows cast by the moon. Each purchase was sealed with a contract written in Nethernotes, binding the supernatural forces to his will. He transformed the terrifying unknown into a predictable, monetized environment. The ghosts were no longer predators; they were employees, janitors, and enforcers in a global enterprise he owned.
However, being at the top meant Morgan was a target for both the living and the dead. A coalition of former world leaders and rogue spirits attempted a "Hostile Takeover," storming his central estate. Morgan didn't pick up a sword or a gun. He simply opened his ledger and executed a massive "Sell-Off" of the spirits guarding the rebels' territories. Deprived of their spectral protection, the invaders were instantly overwhelmed by the wild horrors of the unclaimed lands. It was a cold reminder that in Morgan’s world, your life was only as secure as the balance in your spectral account.
By the end of the first decade of the Incursion, the world was no longer a wasteland; it was a series of vast, interconnected estates owned by Morgan’s conglomerates. He had achieved the impossible: he had commodified the end of days. He sat in his obsidian tower, looking out over a world that functioned with the precision of a clock. The apocalypse had been a chaotic storm, but Morgan had harnessed it, packaged it, and sold it back to the survivors. He was the architect of the new order, a man who had looked into the abyss and decided to buy the whole thing.
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