Sitting back on his bed to catch his breath, Rian let out a shaky laugh. Despite the exhaustion and pain, a grin spread across his face. "I'm a bug," he whispered, the words tinged with awe and disbelief. "I'm literally a bug in the system."
Now, instead of fear, he felt an odd excitement. Whatever had happened to him was a chance to change his life, and he was determined to figure it out.
Starting with his most recent discovery, he realized he now had all the information from his tablet—its systems, apps, and even his entire chat history on ChatterLink—imprinted in his mind. He laughed, a mix of disbelief and wonder.
"So this is what it feels like to be a human hard drive," he muttered. "I can face anyone now without worrying about forgetting a single message."
As he explored further, another realization dawned on him. The knowledge he possessed was limited to the data stored offline on his tablet. This meant that while he had a near-perfect understanding of the device's internal workings, his abilities didn't extend to areas he hadn't personally accessed. Skills like hacking and advanced programming, which required external knowledge or connections, were still beyond his grasp.
"Figures," he said with a wry smile. "Becoming a billionaire overnight isn't exactly a free pass, even for a bug."
Then he also realized that his mind was so clear, like he could make predictions of so many things and do any calculations for freshmen students and maybe even advanced math, though he wasn't sure about the advanced part until he tried. "This is the power of knowledge," he said to himself, "especially Maths."
At this point, it was already afternoon, and his tummy growled angrily, reminding him of his hunger. He also noticed how smelly he was with sweat. Heading to the bathroom, he quickly freshened up, scrubbing away the events of the morning. A few minutes later, he emerged clean and refreshed, dressed in fresh clothes.
Dashing to the dining room, he noticed the house was quiet, except for the soft sound of the TV coming from the living room. His stomach urged him forward as he scanned for food, ready to tackle whatever lay ahead.
His sister Kala's voice came from the living room. "Mum left your breakfast in the fridge," she called. Rian quickly found it, reheated the meal in the oven, and carried it to the living room to eat.
Kala was sitting on the couch, her eyes fixed on the TV as she listened intently to the news. On the screen, armed SWAT police officers escorted a man from court to an armored vehicle. The caption identified the man as a Spark Radiant named Vibrator, found guilty of raping a young woman. The woman's photo appeared blurred on the screen.
The name "Vibrator" almost made Rian spit out his food, and he quickly swallowed, suppressing a laugh. Kala, however, looked visibly upset. "That poor woman," she muttered, her voice tinged with sadness. "It's disgusting how people with power think they can do whatever they want."
Rian nodded, his amusement fading as he thought about the seriousness of the situation. He glanced back at the screen, where the Radiant was being loaded into the vehicle, his glowing cuffs faintly sparking. The news anchor discussed the impact of the trial, calling it a landmark case in holding Radiants accountable for their actions.
Based on the knowledge now ingrained in his mind, Rian sighed and said, "I hope so, because there have been similar cases reported. Some Radiants were apprehended, but the majority were ignored." He paused, considering the weight of the situation. He was certain that this particular victim must come from a wealthy family. "In other words," he added, "the rich in this world have more fighting grounds against Radiants compared to the poor."
Now aware of the classifications of Radiants, Rian reflected on their hierarchy. Radiants were divided into five tiers. At the foundation were the Sparks, who held the potential to rise or fade depending on their actions and growth. Next came the Vanguards, who mostly worked as defenders or regional heroes, excelling in smaller spheres. The third tier, the Luminaries, were renowned for their specialized skills and unique contributions, acting as the shining lights of their kind. Then there were the Primes, extraordinary in strength and renown, often serving as leaders and key players in major events. Finally, at the pinnacle were the Ascendants, the epitome of Radiant power and influence. Revered as legends, their feats shaped the very fabric of society, their abilities and global fame bordering on godlike status.
After eating and cleaning his plate, Rian decided it was time to make some money with his math abilities. He went to grab his wallet in his room, then headed out. The air was fresh, and Rian took it in completely, saying, "Money, I'm coming." He walked the busy streets, took some turns, and finally reached a particular street bustling with activity. He stood before a building called Bluff City.
Bluff City was a popular casino in Copper Lane, the neighborhood Rian lived in. It was a two-story building. Rian had the habit of coming here with his friends to have fun, despite the fact they rarely won. His mum always warned him to stop going there. Thinking of her now, Rian muttered, "This will be the last time I come here." Of course, that was what he always said whenever he came here.
As Rian stepped inside, he was greeted by the chaotic hum of activity. The air was thick with the mingling scents of cologne, alcohol, and faint cigarette smoke. Bright, flashing lights illuminated the room, casting colorful reflections off the polished marble floor. A cacophony of sounds filled his ears—machines chiming with every spin, dice clattering on tabletops, and the distant cheers of winners blending with the groans of losers.
Rian's gaze wandered, taking in the rows of slot machines with their spinning reels, the blackjack tables surrounded by intense players, and the croupiers briskly raking in chips. He even caught sight of a man slumped over at a slot machine, tears streaking his face as he pounded the machine with a trembling fist. "That was my last cash!" the man yelled, his voice cracking.
Rian chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Looks like I'm not the only one with money on the line," he thought, weaving through the crowd. The buzz of adrenaline was infectious, but none of the games caught his attention. Slots were too random, and the card games looked like they required socializing—something Rian wasn't in the mood for.
His eyes flicked to the staircase leading to the second floor. A sense of purpose filled him. "The big games," he muttered. Climbing the steps, he felt the weight of anticipation in the air grow heavier with each step.
When he reached the upper floor, the atmosphere shifted. The lighting was dimmer, the noise more subdued, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or gasps of disbelief. Here, the players were dressed sharper, their movements deliberate. Tables of poker, baccarat, and roulette stretched across the room, each surrounded by small groups of spectators leaning in to catch the action.
Rian's lips curled into a smile. "Time to put my math skills to the test," he thought. The Roulette table stood at the far end, its spinning wheel gleaming under the overhead lights. The sound of the ivory ball bouncing along the pockets was hypnotic, accompanied by the rhythmic clinking of chips.
First, Rian made his way to the nearest ATM. The cold, sterile screen lit up as he inserted his card. Hesitating for a moment, he took a deep breath. "Half," he muttered to himself. The machine whirred, spitting out bills. He pocketed ₵600, his pulse quickening as he turned back toward the tables.
Walking to the Roulette table, he studied the crowd. A mix of thrill-seekers and seasoned gamblers surrounded it, their faces masks of concentration or barely concealed excitement. The croupier spun the wheel with practiced ease, the ball clattering against the edges before settling in a pocket.
Rian clenched the cash in his pocket, his mind racing with calculations. He wasn't just here to gamble; he was here to test his edge. The game had rules, patterns—something he could crack.