Eli grew up in a quiet city in Kencity, the city is the mix of grandeur and squalor, of splendid wealth and direst poverty.
During the summer, the sun beat down so hard it felt like it was going to consume people alive. At every corner, kids kicked around a deflated ball like it was their only shot at joy.
Eli was sixteen, skinny as a rail, his clothes patched together from whatever his mom could scrounge up. But he was very observant, his eyes were always moving, always watching. That was the only trait he inherited from his father he never met.
In Kencity, he saw how people ran after the next big thing, chasing whatever everyone else was chasing: a job at the factory, a hustle selling knockoff sneakers, anything that promised a quick buck. It never worked out.
They'd end up tired, broke, and stuck, they were owned by the same system they were trying to beat. It hit him hard, right in the chest. He wasn't going to let that be him. Eli has always felt a little different like he could see things others missed.
People in the low hierarchy were caught up in the grind, following the crowd like it was the only way to survive. He saw them lose themselves, trading their dreams for a paycheck that barely covered rent. It made his stomach twist, not just with pity, but with this burning need to do things his way. He didn't want to just get by; he wanted to know who he was, deep down, and build something real from there. So he made a promise to himself: he'd focus on himself first, figure out what made him tick, and not let the world's noise drown him out." At night, he'd climb the hill beside their house, the only place he could think straight. Down below, he could hear his mom's voice, worn thin from worrying about bills and stretching their food to last the week.
It broke his heart. Up there, under the stars, he will continuously ask himself, "Who am I?" It wasn't just a question, it was like a fire in his chest, pushing him to dig deeper. He wasn't just some kid from Kensity, he was someone with a spark, someone who could think, plan, and fight for something bigger. Those nights of solitude are finally carving him into someone new, someone of great thoughts.
He started small but fierce. Every morning, before the sun even thought about rising, he would be up, running through the empty streets. His legs burned, and his lungs screamed, but every step felt like a middle finger to the life everyone else accepted; he craved more than the satisfaction of the city; he wanted to start living, not surviving.
Eli has no father figure or guidance to aid his growth, but he has to start somewhere. He desires eminence but needs direction, so he goes ahead to save every penny he gets from running errands for people in his street to purchase valuable books from the old man's shop adjacent to his mother's house. He read them by candlelight until his eyes ached. Each page was like a secret weapon, teaching him how to think sharper and dream bigger.
Because of his dedication, he quickly mastered new habits and decided to start cleaning the house and keeping his room clean, following what was written in the books he purchased. This new character became known to his mother; she could not question him, but she was happy seeing her son's improvement; she wondered what could be the cause, but she decided not to ask him.
He soon became unstoppable and began organising his thoughts and writing his goals down in his journal. Discipline wasn't just a word; it was Eli's way of fighting back against a world that wanted to keep him small.
He promised himself that he would sacrifice five years and submit to the process that was written in the book, and utilise it to build himself up. He shut down all temptation and said no to the easy traps—booze, quick cash, and blending in with the crowd. He thought, "Only raw action, I need to take action, I'll let the result speak for itself." He never shouted about his plans to his friends or his mother; he stayed lowkey because all he read was unknown within the low hierarchy, and he did not want anyone to talk him out of it, especially his mother.
This was Eli's fight, quiet but relentless. He could feel it in his bones: he was going to make it, not just to get rich, but to live free, on his terms. One day, he will walk through Kencity, not as a kid scrambling to survive, but as someone who'd built himself into something untouchable, a guy who knew who he was and didn't owe anyone a damn thing.