Infinite Returns Vol.2 (Part-1)
Copyright© 2026 by TheSmartOne
Chapter 41: The Tycoon’s Way
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 41: The Tycoon’s Way - Volume 2 begins with danger and betrayal: Ethan faces trials blessed by a hidden power, while Jade confesses her love for her daughter’s husband, sparking a deadly clash with Julie.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mind Control Romantic Slavery Fiction GameLit High Fantasy Mystery Magic Demons Politics
Ethan’s presence didn’t go unnoticed.
The prisoners saw him.
But they didn’t care.
It wasn’t rare for someone to end up in this wretched place. A new arrival wasn’t worth their attention. They had bigger concerns—like figuring out whether today was the day they’d finally end it all.
“Why are they here? Are they bad people? If they are, why is the Tower asking me to give them purpose again?”
[The concept of good and bad is subjective, Host. They may be considered bad by others, but to you, they might be good. Save whoever you deem worthy.]
“So it’s up to me, huh? Guess I have to talk to them.”
He approached a cell where an old man sat motionless, eyes staring blankly at the cold floor.
“Uh, hey old man. You seem lonely. Care to talk?” Ethan asked, his tone unsure. He wasn’t exactly experienced in dealing with suicidal people.
The old man lifted his gaze, held Ethan’s stare for a second—then looked away.
Ethan’s lips twitched. “ ... Seriously?”
He exhaled. “Look, I’m not here to waste time. Just talk to me. I can help you.”
Nothing.
For thirty damn minutes, Ethan coaxed, reasoned, tried every approach—
Not even a glance.
Ethan clenched his jaw and moved on.
“Fucking stubborn old man. What’s his problem?”
He went from cell to cell.
A hundred prisoners.
A hundred empty stares.
Not. A single. Response.
Checking the system timer—twenty minutes left.
Ethan sank onto the cold stone floor, rubbing his temples. His head pounded with frustration.
“This is bullshit. Why won’t they talk to me?”
Failure wasn’t an option. If he failed, he’d have to wait two months before retaking the trial. And next time? The difficulty would increase. The rewards would decrease.
The Tower didn’t tolerate failure. Other challengers actually died in their trials.
Ethan exhaled, trying to clear his mind.
“Think, Ethan. Think. How can someone worshipped by gods fail a damn trial? That’d be too embarrassing.”
The problem was simple.
He needed to talk to them. Learn their stories. See if they were worth saving.
But they wouldn’t talk.
Because they didn’t care. They had lost the will to live.
“What do suicidal people want?”
Salvation.
But how do you give salvation? Killing them? Not an option in this trial.
Ethan’s mind raced.
“System, what if I wish for a skill that lets me see if a person is good or bad based on my own moral compass?”
[It’s possible.]
“What’s the price?”
[To see into a person’s true nature ... you will lose your eyesight.]
... What?
Come the fuck again?
[It’s an equivalent exchange, Host. You may proceed, or you may find another way.]
[You have 10 minutes left.]
[And if you accept, you will permanently lose your sight. No wish can restore it.]
Ethan froze. 10 minutes before failure? No fucking way.
But losing his sight?
Never seeing beautiful women again?
Never seeing his wives, Esmeray, Anita again?
Never seeing his family again?
No. Fucking. Way.
[You will be able to see in a different way when you awaken your Intent.]
“And how long will that take? Years? Don’t fuck with me.”
[There exist skills that can assist you in the meantime. It is not as hopeless as you make it seem, Host.]
Ethan ignored the system. His time was running out.
He exhaled. Closed his eyes.
He thought back to when he first entered the Tower—so cocky, so sure.
Promising himself he’d clear every trial.
Yet here he was, struggling. Almost losing.
But Ethan doesn’t fail.
Ethan doesn’t lose.
He clenched his fists.
He had power.
He had money.
He had authority.
So why was he acting like a beggar, trying to convince these people to talk?
These prisoners had given up. They saw no future. No light.
... Then I’ll just fucking create one.
His lips curled into a smirk. “Oh. I get it now.”
He laughed—loud, unrestrained.
The prisoners barely reacted, but something in his aura shifted.
“You don’t care about talking?” He reached into his inventory. “Fine. Let’s do it another way.”
And then—
He made it rain.
He stormed toward a cell with six prisoners.
All women.
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