The King of Chaos

A king allows various self-interested parties to extract what they want in exchange for his enrichment and the perception of power. He doesn’t care about the health of the system.

But “wealth” (all forms) depends on systemic stability. The king and his court are ignorant and/or greedy.

The king mistakes his map for territory—confusing symbols of authority with actual control. His court is a marketplace where influence is auctioned to the highest bidder. Each transaction feels like victory, each extraction proof of his dominance.

Meanwhile, many extractors know the game is temporary. They strip-mine institutions, relationships, and trust itself. Some may genuinely believe they’re creating value; others simply don’t care about tomorrow’s chaotic collapse if today offers quick profit. The smart hedge their bets and plan impossible exits.

The system becomes a game of musical chairs where many know the music will stop, but none wants to be the first to sit down. Trust erodes, predictability vanishes, and the very foundations that enabled wealth creation crumble.

The king celebrates each deal as evidence of his prowess, never recognizing that he’s not ruling a kingdom—he’s presiding over its liquidation sale. The chaos he enables feels like power, but power without foundation is just elaborate theater performed on a stage that’s on fire.

In the end, the King of Chaos is either too deluded or too demented (or both) to realize there’s no kingdom left to rule, only the empty shell of what systemic destruction left behind.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​