The lecture hall buzzed as students filtered in, tossing backpacks onto desks and scrolling through their phones. The faint scent of burnt coffee and whiteboard marker lingered in the air.
He entered last, as usual. Not late, not early — perfectly timed to avoid drawing attention. Just another face among dozens, indistinguishable.
Professor Gregory Wallace stepped in moments later, a stout man in his mid-fifties with thinning hair and a permanent scowl. His lectures were notorious: dry, punishingly detailed, and delivered with the kind of bitterness that came from a life that hadn't gone according to plan. The students groaned collectively as he began scrawling formulas across the whiteboard.
The MC sat in the middle rows, notebook open, pen moving in deliberate, meaningless lines. On the surface, he was no different from the others — another bored student surviving the monotony.
Inside, however, his mind was razor sharp.
Phase Two: social leverage. Power without control is wasted. Control begins with influence. Influence begins with pawns.
He had already chosen his candidates.
The first: Professor Wallace himself. A petty tyrant who masked insecurity with authority. The man was drowning in debt, whispers of unpaid medical bills spreading through faculty gossip. Desperate, vulnerable.
The second: Ryan Cooper. Loud, obnoxious, desperate to impress his peers, and failing in every attempt. His insecurity made him volatile — and easy to manipulate.
Perfect starting pieces.
The lecture dragged on, equations smeared across the board. Students yawned, some half asleep.
He leaned back, eyes calm, and whispered under his breath:
"Inventory."
The void unfolded in his mind. From it, he summoned a simple item — a sealed envelope thick with crisp bills, exact replicas of genuine U.S. currency pulled from the Nanotech Fabricator. Perfectly authentic, undetectable.
He slipped it into his jacket pocket without a sound.
At the end of class, as students packed up, he approached the professor casually.
"Sir," he said, voice flat, face unreadable. "You dropped this."
Wallace blinked, confused. "Dropped… what?"
He handed over the envelope.
The professor's hand trembled as he opened it slightly, just enough to see the thick stack of cash inside. His expression shifted rapidly — shock, greed, relief, guilt — all flashing across his face before he snapped the envelope shut.
"I… thank you," he muttered quickly, stuffing it into his coat. His voice was softer now, uneasy. His eyes darted to the students leaving, then back to him.
The MC gave a faint nod and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Inside, his mind sharpened.
The hook is in. He can't report it. He won't risk exposure. He'll spend weeks wondering: Did I see too much? Do I know something? Is he compromised?
Wallace was already his. All it would take now was a nudge.
Later that afternoon, the cafeteria buzzed with chatter and clattering trays. Students clustered in noisy groups, gossiping between bites of greasy food.
Ryan Cooper held court at one corner table, his voice loud as always. He was bragging — again — about his supposed "connections" and how he'd ace the next exam. His laugh was forced, his friends only half listening.
The MC approached silently, sliding into a seat nearby but not within the group. Close enough to be noticed, invisible enough to be ignored if he wished.
He pulled out his phone — except it wasn't a phone from this world. It was a sleek, glass-like device from another universe, glowing with a holographic interface years ahead of Earth's technology.
He scrolled casually.
As expected, Ryan's eyes locked on immediately.
"Whoa! What the hell is that?" Ryan leaned over, astonished.
The MC looked up, feigning mild confusion. "Hm? Just a prototype. Nothing special."
"A prototype? No way!" Ryan's voice cracked with excitement. "Can I see it?"
The MC studied him for a second, then handed it over with indifference.
Ryan nearly dropped it in his eagerness. The glowing display shifted seamlessly with his touch, projecting tiny holograms above the screen. His friends gasped, whispering furiously.
"You can… it does holograms? This is insane!" Ryan stammered, holding it up like a trophy.
He shrugged. "Like I said. Prototype."
The group was already staring at Ryan differently. Envy, curiosity, admiration flickered in their eyes. Ryan's chest puffed out as he basked in the attention.
"Can I… maybe borrow this?" he asked, voice almost pleading.
The MC allowed himself the faintest smile. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Sure," he said evenly. "Just don't lose it."
Ryan grinned, overwhelmed by his sudden elevation in status. He turned to his friends, already bragging louder than before, clutching the device like a prize.
The MC stood, tray empty, and walked away.
His expression was calm, unreadable.
Inside, his thoughts were precise and merciless.
Two pawns secured. Wallace, bound by guilt and paranoia. Ryan, ensnared by vanity. Both will move exactly as I want them to. Neither will ever realize they're on strings.
That night, back in his dorm room, he sat at his desk, scribbling in his notebook under the dim glow of his lamp.
Experiment Log – Phase Two:
Target A (Wallace): Financial vulnerability exploited. Behavioral shift imminent.
Target B (Ryan): Insecurity manipulated. Currently in possession of seeded asset. Influence increasing.
Conclusion: Humans are predictable. Weakness is leverage. Leverage is power.
He closed the notebook and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
The Celestial Inventory gave him infinite weapons, but he had no need to flaunt them. Swords and cannons could topple armies. But whispers, guilt, and vanity could topple empires.
And he would master both.