The workshop smelled of solder and burnt plastic, a mixture of failure and stubborn persistence. Ethan wiped sweat from his brow, blinking against the blur of exhaustion. His hands trembled as he set down the soldering iron, staring at the gleaming prototype on the table.
It wasn't perfect. Nothing about it was. Wires peeked from seams, the casing was uneven, and half the parts were salvaged scraps. But when he pressed the small switch on its side, a soft hum filled the air.
The glow pulsed. Steady. Alive.
The system confirmed what his racing heart already knew:
> \[Prototype Online.]
> \[Functionality Verified: 63%.]
Sixty-three percent wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to prove the idea worked. Enough to show that Harland hadn't killed Tomorrow Works before it had a chance to breathe.
A shaky laugh escaped him. "It's alive."
Lily, slouched against the counter, tilted her head. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her sleeves rolled past her elbows, and a smudge of grease streaked her cheek. She looked at the glowing device, then at him, and her lips curved into a tired smile.
"I've never seen someone so happy over sixty-three percent."
"It's more than zero," he said simply.
Across the room, Aria cracked open a bottle of water and tossed it his way. "Sixty-three percent is better than anything Harland's dogs expected you to pull off. Trust me—they'll choke on it."
Ethan caught the bottle but didn't open it. His gaze lingered on the prototype, the possibilities spinning through his mind.
The system pulsed again.
> [Quest Update: Field Validation Required.]
> Objective: Conduct a live demonstration of your prototype.]
> Reward: 200 Points + Resource Unlock.]
> Time Limit: 5 Days.]
His throat went dry. Demonstrate. Publicly.
The thought alone sent panic crawling up his spine. He'd never stood in front of investors, scientists, or even curious onlookers before. Repairing neighbors' appliances was one thing. Exposing himself and his technology to the world was another.
And Harland would be watching.
---
They chose a small venue, nothing extravagant. A community innovation fair hosted in a college auditorium—a place where students displayed projects and professors offered polite applause.
It was Lily's suggestion. "No corporate sharks. No headlines. Just enough people to prove it works."
Ethan agreed, though every part of him screamed that it was reckless. Still, the system's countdown ticked away, and there was no choice.
On the day of the fair, Ethan stood behind the folding table with his heart hammering so hard he feared it might shake the device apart. His jeans felt too casual, his shirt too plain. Around him, students displayed drones, apps, and solar panels. He looked like a fraud.
Lily adjusted the placement of the prototype, smoothing the tablecloth as though perfection could mask his nerves. "Breathe," she whispered. "It's just a test."
Aria, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, smirked. "If you faint, I'll drag you out myself. Try not to embarrass us."
He managed a weak smile.
The doors opened, and people began filtering in. Students with clipboards. Professors with polite interest. A handful of curious entrepreneurs sniffing for cheap ideas to scoop up.
Ethan's palms slicked with sweat. The system pulsed insistently.
> \[Demonstration Required.]
> \[Time Remaining: 4 Hours, 12 Minutes.]
One by one, curious eyes stopped at his table.
"What is it?" a student asked, peering at the device.
"A medical regeneration unit," Ethan said, his voice surprisingly steady. "For field use. It accelerates wound closure without invasive procedures."
The student blinked. "Like sci-fi?"
Ethan swallowed. "Like reality. Watch."
He pricked his own finger with a sterilized pin—something he'd practiced a dozen times in private—and placed it beneath the device's glow. Within seconds, the bleeding slowed. A minute later, the skin had sealed into a faint pink line.
Gasps. Murmurs. Pens scribbling across clipboards.
Ethan's pulse thundered. His mind screamed fraud, fraud, fraud, but the proof was right there. Real. Tangible.
One professor leaned closer, adjusting his glasses. "Impossible. That level of acceleration would require—"
"It doesn't," Ethan interrupted softly. "It just requires thinking differently about energy transfer and cellular stimulation."
The man gawked. The students whispered. Aria smirked like a cat who had cornered prey.
And for the first time, Ethan felt it—not fear, not doubt, but momentum.
By the end of the day, half the room had seen his device. Some laughed it off as a trick, but others… others lingered with wide eyes and hungry curiosity.
The system chimed.
> [Quest Complete: Field Validation Achieved.]
> Reward: 200 Points.]
> Resource Unlock: Candidate Recruitment Expansion.]
The glow of victory was intoxicating. Ethan could almost taste the future.
---
But victory never came without cost.
When the fair ended and the crowds dispersed, Ethan packed the prototype carefully into its case. Lily hummed softly beside him, her expression light with pride. Aria, for once, offered no sarcastic jab—just a nod of approval that spoke louder than words.
They stepped into the cool evening air. The parking lot was nearly empty, the sky streaked with the fading orange of sunset.
That's when the black car rolled in.
Windows tinted, paint sleek, engine humming like a predator's growl. It pulled up slow, deliberate, blocking their path.
Ethan froze. Lily stiffened beside him. Aria's hand twitched near her bag, where Ethan knew she kept a stun gun.
The door opened, and Derek Harland stepped out. His suit was perfect, his smile sharper than glass.
"Well," he drawled, clapping slowly. "What a delightful show. Quite the trick you pulled in there."
Ethan's gut twisted. "What do you want?"
Harland's eyes flicked to the case in Ethan's hands. "What I've always wanted. A partnership. You make miracles, and I make them profitable. We could both be very, very rich."
"No." Ethan's voice was firmer than he felt. "Not with you."
The smile didn't falter. "That's the wrong answer, boy. Do you think you can waltz into this world with toys cobbled from spare parts and stand against men like me? You don't understand the game you've stepped into. Innovation doesn't win. Power does."
Lily stepped forward, her voice steady. "Then maybe it's time the game changed."
Harland's eyes flicked to her, sharp and assessing, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned back to Ethan, his tone darkening.
"Refuse me now, and every step you take will be uphill. Suppliers will vanish. Investors will ghost you. Competitors will sprout overnight with your ideas dressed in new coats. You'll bleed time and money until you crawl back begging for mercy."
He leaned closer, his breath cold. "And mercy isn't something I offer twice."
Ethan's grip tightened on the case. His pulse roared in his ears.
For a long moment, the parking lot was silent but for the hum of the car's engine.
Then Harland straightened, smoothed his tie, and stepped back. "Think carefully, Mr. Cole. You've made a spark. But sparks die without fuel."
He slid into the car. The engine growled, the wheels turned, and in seconds, the predator was gone—leaving only the chill of his promise behind.
---
Back in the workshop, the glow of triumph had dimmed. Ethan set the case on the table, staring at it like it might vanish.
Aria slammed her palm against the counter. "He's bluffing."
"No," Ethan whispered. "He's not."
Lily touched his arm, her eyes searching his. "Then what do we do?"
The system answered for him, the prompt glowing bright against the darkness:
> \[New Quest: Establish Your First Official Division.]
> Objective: Recruit a candidate to oversee operations.]
> Reward: 500 Points + Division Unlock.]
> Time Limit: 10 Days.]
Ethan exhaled slowly, the weight settling on his shoulders.
They had made a spark. Harland was right about that.
But what Harland didn't understand—what he would never understand—was that sparks could start fires.
And Ethan Cole was done running from the dark.