From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth
Chapter 90: Psionic Path: Becoming the God-Emperor

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: Psionic Path: Becoming the God-Emperor

Still cross-legged in the low-lit cabin, Richard sat in silence, not because of tranquility—but because of revelation.

His eyes were sharp now, alive with psionic clarity. The air was thick with the rhythm of quantum breath flowing through his body, like tides responding to a celestial moon only he could see. Every breath felt like it was feeding something ancient inside him.

And yet, the rush of new understanding stirred not calm—but hunger.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let’s see what else you’re hiding from me..."

He summoned the Skill Shop again. Filters swept across the glowing blue interface, narrowing categories. He navigated to Psionic > Mastery Tier, heart thumping with expectation. If the breathing skill was only a basic technique, there had to be greater things.

Then—his eyes widened.

[Active Skill: Existential Resonance]

Description: The ultimate expression of psionic mastery, allowing the user to directly resonate with and subtly influence the fundamental fabric of reality within a localized area. This power transcends mere force, enabling the manipulation of material states, energy configurations, and even the probabilistic flow of causality.

[Price: 1,000,000,000,000 SP (1 Trillion SP)]

Richard blinked. He blinked again.

"The fuck—" he whispered.

One trillion. Not million. Not billion. Trillion.

A single skill.

"Is this even real?" he muttered aloud, more to himself than to the system.

But the system responded immediately—dry, sarcastic, almost smug.

[ Motivating you is inefficient. Mockery has higher effectiveness ratios. ]

Richard narrowed his eyes.

"You fucking bastard," he muttered.

The system didn’t reply this time. Probably smirking in silence, if it even could. Still, he smirked back. Touché.

"Fine," he said. "I’ll find something useful."

And he kept browsing—furiously scrolling, diving through subcategories, filtering tiers, reading dense text in seconds. That’s when it caught his eye:

[Psionic Combat Skill Package: Psionic Lightning Arts]Description: This comprehensive package unlocks a suite of psionically-manifested electrical combat abilities. The user channels their mental energy to generate, control, and project bolts, arcs, and fields of pure psionic lightning, capable of stunning, disrupting, and devastating foes.[Price: 1,500,000 SP]

His heart paused for a second. It was still expensive, but attainable. It wasn’t passive meditation anymore. This was weaponized cognition. Psionic warfare.

He expanded the details:

Package Contents:[Active Skill: Psionic Bolt]A single-target attack that fires a high-speed psionic lightning bolt. Disorients organic foes and interferes with electronics. Low energy cost.

[Active Skill: Arc Chain]Multi-target attack. Lightning jumps from one enemy to others. Each jump weaker, but effective for crowd disruption.

[Active Skill: Static Burst]AoE pulse around the user. Causes knockback and stun. Medium-high energy cost.

[Passive Skill: Psionic Conductance]Improves psionic lightning efficiency. Lowers energy cost and increases electrical resistance.

Richard’s eyes gleamed.

A full combat suite. Not just flashy effects—it was functional, adaptive, versatile.

"Now we’re talking."

It was clear now: psionic skills were priced differently—like an entirely separate tier of capability. The breathing technique he’d acquired earlier, despite being just a foundation, had cost 200,000 SP. The Lightning Arts were almost eight times that.

Which meant the breath technique was likely low-tier, a beginner’s form, meant to acclimate the user to handling energy.

This new package? It was a weapon.

He checked his balance.

[Current SP: 8,147,234]

Still healthy. A result of the passive royalties Bytebull earned every week from its licensed technologies—server arrays, traffic AI subsystems, government-commissioned accounting modules, etc. The system gave him a weekly influx based on the influence and distribution of his released knowledge.

Still, he had to be smart about spending.

He had stat points to purchase, too. And the price inflation for stats beyond 100 was steep. INT had only pushed past the cap because of a unique class bonus. PSY was growing slowly, and natural growth seemed to be tied to deep use and meditation.

He exhaled. So that’s how they get you.

A thought crossed his mind, somber but real:

There might be a time someone tries something funny... not just to me—but to my family.

He remembered the names whispered in backrooms. The corrupt officials. The quiet threats. The hostile competitors watching Bytebull from the shadows.

Even he wasn’t untouchable. Power made you a beacon.

This wasn’t paranoia. It was investment.

He opened the Lightning Arts again.

"Add to inventory," he whispered.

[Psionic Combat Skill Package: Psionic Lightning Arts] — ACQUIRED

SP Remaining: 6,647,234

A rush surged into his brain—a hot, electric pulse. Not painful, but primally invasive. His body tingled with barely-suppressed power. His fingertips sparked, micro arcs dancing along his skin before fading.

He lifted his right hand and focused.

A tiny flicker of psionic electricity danced between his fingers like a living serpent.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

It wouldn’t be long before he had the control to use it in combat conditions. For now, he simply marveled.

And just as he turned his palm upward, still watching the arc, the system chimed again.

[PSY +0.0002]

[New Combat Class Subtree Detected: Psi-Warrior – Path Awakening Initiated]

Richard grinned. "HAHAHA. I will become Zeus." he laughed manically.

He wasn’t just growing stronger, he was on the path of becoming a God.

The arcs of psionic lightning were practically coiled beneath his skin, tingling with barely-contained potential, and yet—he clenched his fist, exhaled, and let it go.

No matter how tempting, trying out new combat-grade psionic skills aboard a pressurized private aircraft flying 30,000 feet above sea level was not what a sane man would call wise.

"Later," he muttered, brushing a static thread off his palm. He collapsed back onto the bed, eyes heavy now, his body no longer at war with the chaos of the world. The Adaptive Perception skill still dulled the ambient noise into a gentle hush.

This time, he actually slept.

Three Days Later – Bytebull Quantum Systems Research Division, Iligan City

The walls of the lab shimmered faintly with smart-glass overlays—layered with real-time data, 3D atmospheric modeling, global satellite feeds, and the soft, rhythmic pulse of Pheonix AI’s quantum matrices. The room was bathed in clean, clinical light. Thin strips of blue illuminated the edges of floor tiles, and humming servers sat in the next room behind reinforced glass, glowing like a technological heart.

Richard stood with arms crossed near the center holotable. He wore a sleek black research coat with Bytebull’s crest over the left chest—unofficial, yet earned.

Floating above the table, simulations swirled in translucent motion: typhoon spirals, atmospheric pressure maps, signal-level overlays.

Bytebull had been commissioned by PAGASA to overhaul the nation’s aging weather forecasting system. The project, three days underway, was already producing results that stunned even the most hardened analysts.

Standing across from him was Dr. Zamora, head of the lab.

She wore her white coat open, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, dark hair tied in a loose knot, eyes lit not just with brilliance—but challenge. The kind of curiosity that had earned her three PhDs—in microbiology, advanced chemistry, and quantum physics—and the quiet reverence of the scientific community.

To many, she was an icon. To Richard, she was Bytebull’s most dangerous intellectual weapon.

He greeted her with a nod. "How’s the research going, Dr. Zamora?"

She didn’t look up at first. Instead, she flicked her fingers through a floating display, rotating the 3D pressure simulations with a practiced precision, narrowing in on Typhoon Glenda’s trajectory from 2014.

Then, finally: "Progressing. Faster than we anticipated."

She stepped away from the display and turned to Richard. Her voice was calm, clinical, and precise.

"We’ve already passed Phase I of the simulation parameters. Pheonix has integrated 1.2 terabytes of historical weather data from PAGASA—2000 to present—and has begun extrapolating high-fidelity prediction models down to the square-kilometer resolution."

Richard’s eyes gleamed. "And the margin of error?"

Zamora’s mouth twitched at the corner—her version of a smile. "Reduced by 72% compared to the current national systems. Typhoon path predictions are accurate within a 3-kilometer variance, signal intensity models within 8% of ground truth, and timeframes within 30 minutes of actual landfall data."

Richard let out a low whistle. "And this is just with legacy atmospheric data?"

"Correct," she said. "We haven’t even fed it live satellite feeds or drone-layer atmospheric telemetry yet. Once we do, it’ll make the current PAGASA system look like a sundial."

Just then, the PAGASA representative entered the lab—a mild-mannered man in a crisp uniform, carrying a folder and visibly trying not to look like he was standing in a room powered by the future.

Richard glanced at him. "Thanks for the data batch deliveries, sir. Your team’s been efficient."

The man nodded, still a bit dazed by the tech around him. "The Director says... we’ve never seen anything like this. Whatever that AI of yours is doing, it’s not forecasting—it’s... seeing."

Dr. Zamora interrupted without looking at him. "It’s collapsing quantum indeterminacies in weather evolution by tracking micro-atmospheric shifts—a hundred million calculations per second. We’re not just seeing the storm... we’re watching its possibilities die until only one remains."

The PAGASA rep blinked.

Richard, on the other hand, smirked.

He loved this.

It wasn’t just about being powerful—it was about changing things. Not for applause. Not even for Bytebull’s reputation.

This was what he lived for.

"Keep pushing," Richard said. "If we can model future typhoons with real-time synthesis, we’ll change how disaster prep is done forever."

Dr. Zamora tilted her head slightly. "There’s more," she said, tapping a new floating tab. "I’ve started using the residual Phoenix threads to cross-reference quantum field behaviors with atmospheric molecular drift."

"Meaning?" Richard asked.

Zamora finally looked at him, eyes alight. "Meaning if this goes well... I might finally get experimental validation for my Quantum Weather Induction Theory."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "You’re trying to influence weather now?"

Zamora smiled properly this time.

"I’m trying to predict whether it’s possible to influence it."

Richard chuckled.

Behind the lab’s calm, high-tech hum, the possibilities had begun to spiral outward. Not just better forecasting. Not just disaster prevention.

But maybe... someday...

Control.

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