The cursor blinked on his screen, mercilessly steady.
Business Account Application: Incomplete.
Small Business Loan Form: Incomplete.
He groaned, slumping back in his chair. Numbers, terms, collateral requirements — it all tangled together into a noose. He'd thought building machines was hard. Apparently, convincing humans to give you money was harder.
The system lens pulsed faintly.
> [Time Remaining: 4 Days, 13 Hours.]
> \[Quest Progress: 0%.]
"I know, I know," Ethan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm working on it."
Another window appeared unbidden, crisp and glowing.
> [Recommended Pathway: Local Technology Innovation Pitch Event.]
> \[Prize Pool: \$50,000 in Seed Funding + Investor Access.]
> \[Registration Deadline: 24 Hours.]
Ethan froze. He hadn't heard of it.
The system projected an article headline: City Innovation Hub Opens Doors to Young Inventors. One Night, Big Prizes.
A pitch event. Crowds. Judges. Investors. He felt sweat bead at the back of his neck. Public speaking was not his forte.
Still… fifty thousand. That was a start. That was survival.
He closed his eyes. *Alright. I'll do it.*
–––
Lily
She found him pacing again. Ever since he'd shown her that cursed contract, Ethan had been a live wire. His foot tapped, his hands fidgeted, his gaze darted everywhere but her face.
"What's going on now?" she asked, arms folded.
He hesitated. "There's this… event. A pitch thing. Prize money. Enough to get started."
"And?" she pressed.
"And I'm a terrible public speaker."
She blinked. That was it? He'd been burning holes into the carpet over stage fright?
"Then you're lucky," she said, smirking. "Because you're not going alone."
His eyes widened. "Lily, no—"
"Yes. If you freeze, I'll drag you through it. I've given presentations before. College seminars, volunteer fundraisers. This is just the same, but shinier."
"It's not that simple," he muttered, but there was relief in his voice, too.
She placed a hand on his arm, steady. "You're not in this by yourself, Ethan. Get used to it."
---
Harland
The report came across his desk by mid-afternoon. His assistant, brisk and efficient, laid down the file.
"Cole registered for the City Innovation Pitch," she said.
Harland raised a brow. "Bold of him."
He flipped through the packet. The pitch event was small fry compared to his usual scale, but it was a gateway. And gateways could be blocked.
"Send Martin," Harland said, naming one of his mid-level managers. "Quietly. Observe the boy. See what he's got up his sleeve. And if possible…" He swirled his glass of scotch, smirking. "…make sure the judges hear the right whispers."
The assistant nodded. "Understood."
Harland leaned back, satisfied. Ethan thought he could sidestep him. But every door the boy opened, Harland had already walked through.
---
The Innovation Hub buzzed with energy. Neon banners flashed slogans: Invent Today. Shape Tomorrow. Rows of booths displayed prototypes—sleek drones, renewable energy gadgets, apps promising to change lives.
Ethan felt like an imposter walking in with Lily at his side. His prototype—a refined version of the Nano-Repair Kit—sat in his backpack, humming faintly.
"Hey," Lily said softly, sensing his nerves. "You belong here."
He wasn't so sure.
The system lens pulsed in his vision.
> \[Quest Update: Event Registration Successful.]
> \[Objective: Deliver Pitch to Secure Funding.]
> \[Optional Boost Available.]
Ethan almost asked what "boost" meant, but the announcer called his name. His chest tightened. It was time.
---
The auditorium lights blinded him. Judges sat in a neat row—investors, engineers, city officials. Dozens of faces loomed in the crowd.
Ethan's mouth went dry.
He set the Nano-Repair Kit on the podium, clearing his throat. "Um… hi. I'm Ethan Cole. This is—this is my invention."
The words stumbled. His palms sweated. A few murmurs rippled through the crowd.
*Disaster,* his mind whispered.
Then the system intervened.
> [Calm Protocol Engaged.]
> \[Speech Optimization Active.]
A subtle wave passed through him—breath steadying, thoughts aligning. When he spoke again, his voice was clear, measured.
"This device is a portable Nano-Repair Kit. It uses programmable nanobots to identify and repair mechanical faults in real time. Imagine reducing hours of machinery downtime to minutes. Imagine repair costs dropping by seventy percent. That's what this can do."
Gasps whispered through the crowd. The judges leaned forward. Ethan pressed on, each sentence flowing smoother than the last.
"In a world where efficiency drives survival, this technology isn't just convenient—it's revolutionary."
When he finished, the room was silent for a beat. Then applause erupted.
Ethan blinked, dazed. He glanced at Lily. She beamed at him, eyes shining with pride.
---
Lily
She hadn't seen him like this before—commanding, confident, alive. For a moment, it was as if the shy, worn-down Ethan she knew had transformed into someone larger, someone unstoppable.
She clapped until her hands hurt.
When he left the stage, she caught his sleeve. "See? I told you."
He gave a shaky laugh. "That wasn't me."
"Then whoever it was," she said firmly, "you'd better get used to him. Because he's good."
---
Harland
From his seat in the back row, Martin reported in a low voice. "The boy did better than expected. The device… it impressed the judges."
On the other end of the line, Harland's smile was cold. "Then make sure he doesn't walk away with more than applause."
--
The judges conferred, heads bent, voices low. Ethan's pulse thundered.
The system lens flickered.
> \[Quest Progress: 75%. Awaiting Outcome.]
Ethan squeezed Lily's hand under the table. She squeezed back.
Whatever happened next—win or lose—he knew this was only the first battle. And he wasn't fighting alone anymore.