Alex could be seen seated in the study, fully concentrated on his laptop, as his fingers flew across the keyboard with controlled urgency.
The room was dimly lit, save for the cool glow of the laptop screen and the gentle ambient lighting spilling down from a custom ceiling fixture.
Polished wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with vintage books, rare economic journals, and a few decorative artifacts that screamed understated wealth.
It had been over three hours since he first sat down. And yet, he wasn't even halfway done.
Not because he was slow—but because this wasn't some copy-paste, low-tier trading bot.
Alex was building a machine.
A living, breathing strategy.
But he hadn't immediately started typing. No, the first hour had been spent in deep focus: designing the structure of his model, mapping out the logic behind it, establishing the framework it would follow, and most importantly—defining the new core mechanics it would run on.
He wasn't pulling anything from conventional trading literature.
There were no RSI triggers, no Bollinger Band thresholds, no moving average crossovers.
Alex had access to something better—something exclusive.
His strategy was built around a model and indicator gifted by the specialized knowledge granted through the system: the Dynamic Liquidity Oscillation Framework (DLOF) and the Impulse Vein Indicator (IVI).
Yes, big names.
And yes—they worked just as big as they sounded.
He chuckled faintly at the memory of trying to summarize them earlier. Explaining either one in full would take hours, maybe days. But he had boiled it down to their essential essence.
The DLOF functioned like a supernatural early warning system for smart-money moves—tracking hidden liquidity shifts before they manifested in visible market action.
It analyzed data far beyond price and volume, processing order book behavior, transaction flow depth, and even psychological pattern disruption.
Meanwhile, the IVI—his unique indicator—could detect micro-volatility pulses buried deep in the data stream. It wasn't fooled by sideways price action or manipulation.
It sensed real tension beneath the surface, measuring when liquidity was about to "snap," like a stretched rubber band recoiling.
And perhaps the most frightening part?
Both tools evolved.
As in—adapted over time. They didn't rely on static rules or fixed conditions. The more data they consumed, the sharper they became. Like intelligent predators learning the patterns of their prey.
"I don't think Wall Street is ready for this," Alex muttered under his breath, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
Once the strategy was mapped, only then did he begin to write code.
At first, it was... awkward. Even with the knowledge in his head, this was his first real experience writing a full program.
It was like learning to ride a bike with perfect muscle memory, but never having pedaled before.
He fumbled at the start—syntax hiccups, environment misconfigurations, even forgetting to declare variables properly. But that awkwardness only lasted ten minutes.
Then it clicked.
The knowledge wasn't just theoretical. His brain had been rewired to understand this. His fingers began moving naturally, almost instinctively, guided by an internal logic only he could see.
One might ask: what language was he even using?
The answer was simple.
He wasn't using any language known to Earth.
The specialized knowledge he received came embedded with a unique universal programming language—one designed by a civilization more advanced than anything humanity had ever imagined.
When Alex first asked the system about it, it replied:
[The language is a variant of the Universal Logic Syntax. Originally developed by a hyper-civilized interstellar race]
That response alone shook Alex to his core.
Not because he feared aliens—but because it confirmed the one thing humanity had always questioned.
We are not alone.
And more importantly… someone out there mastered what we barely understand.
Alex had wanted to ask more—who they were, what they looked like, whether Earth had ever made contact—but the system had gone quiet. No further answer came.
It was almost as if… he wasn't supposed to know more yet.
He let the mystery go—for now. This was even though he was curious as to what scale on the Kardashev scale this civilisation was.
What mattered more to him right now was what the programming language could do.
This wasn't just some fancy script. It was an encrypted, self-defensive coding system capable of:
Self-obfuscation: Anyone looking at it would see gibberish unless they had system-level clearance.
Cross-language binding: It could interact with Python, C++, Java, Solidity, and even low-level assembly effortlessly.
Execution cloaking: The code could run silently in background environments without triggering OS alerts or firewalls.
Autonomous defense: If any intrusion attempt was detected, the system would dissolve the current session and rewrite core pathways instantly.
In simpler terms?
Unhackable. Untraceable. Unstealable.
Alex had gained exclusive access to a digital weapon the NSA, FSB, and MSS would kill to get their hands on.
And it came bundled inside a $10 million knowledge pack.
He leaned back in his chair and gave a tired chuckle.
"I'm such a lucky bastard," he whispered.
Then he leaned forward again and resumed typing.
Time melted.
He got so lost in the rhythm of structuring the execution layer, defining key liquidity monitoring logic, and scripting the IVI's alert thresholds, that he didn't even hear the knock.
It wasn't until the door cracked open and a soft voice floated in that he paused.
"Dinner is ready, Young Master," Natalie said gently, standing just inside the doorway.
Alex blinked. Then blinked again.
The sky outside had turned dark.
He glanced at the time and realized nearly eight hours had passed.
His stomach growled right on cue.
"Thanks, Natalie," he said, closing his laptop gently. "I'll join you now."
He stood, stretching his sore shoulders, and followed her to the dining area.
As they walked through the wide hallway filled with modern art and warm lighting, Alex's mind was still back in his study—calculating, dreaming, planning.
Because once the module was done, he wouldn't be just some reborn heir playing with legacy wealth.
He'd be operating on the same frequency as Two Sigma, D.E. Shaw, and Renaissance Technologies.
No, not in capital or manpower yet.
But in edge.
His strategy wouldn't just outperform them—it would leave them confused and scrambling, wondering what invisible force was eating away at their profits without a trace.
"The future is colorful," he whispered to himself with a grin, as they stepped into the dining room.