Allen stood backstage at The Hive, the intimate venue buzzing with anticipation. The Hive showcase was more of a warm-up for him, a chance to test his performance in front of a live crowd before the big competition. But that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking. The small stage, the packed audience, the lights—all of it felt like a preview of what was to come. The competition loomed large in his mind, but tonight was about proving to himself that he could handle it.
His heart pounded in his chest as he peeked through the curtain, looking at the crowd. It wasn't huge—maybe fifty people at most—but it felt like more. Friends, fans, and other musicians filled the room. There was a mix of chatter and the clinking of glasses, people already in their seats with drinks in hand. The venue's dim lighting and the exposed brick walls made everything feel cozy yet daunting.
Allen checked his guitar, running his fingers along the strings to make sure it was in tune. His fingers felt oddly stiff, the pressure building as he psyched himself up for the performance. The upgrades had helped—he could feel the difference in his vocal control and guitar play—but nerves didn't care about stats. They gripped him, tight and unrelenting.
Benji, standing nearby with his arms crossed, noticed Allen's tension. He gave Allen a nudge. "You look like you're about to throw up, man. Relax. You've got this."
Allen let out a shaky laugh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Just... feels like a lot, you know?"
Benji shrugged. "Yeah, but you've done this before. And tonight? It's just practice. Don't think about the competition yet."
"Right," Allen muttered, trying to push the thought away, but the weight of the upcoming performance still clung to him. He had done smaller gigs in the past, but nothing quite like this. This felt more important somehow, like it was his first real step toward making his music career a reality.
The host of the showcase, a guy named Rick with long hair and an indie-rock vibe, walked up to Allen with a smile. "You're up in five, man. You ready?"
Allen nodded, though the tightness in his chest said otherwise. "Yeah, ready as I'll ever be."
"Good. Just remember, it's all about having fun. This crowd? They're here for the music. No pressure."
"Right, no pressure," Allen repeated, but his fingers twitched with the anxiety surging through him. He was still working on getting used to his upgraded guitar skills, still finding the balance between his old habits and the new precision that had come with the system. He had practiced the set a hundred times, but the fear of slipping up in front of an audience gnawed at him.
Rick gave him a thumbs-up before heading back to the stage. As the current act wrapped up their song, Allen felt a wave of panic rise in his throat. But before he could spiral, Benji leaned in again, his voice low and calm.
"Dude, you've got this. They're going to love 'Fading Lights.' Just... play it like you're in your room. Don't overthink it."
Allen nodded, grateful for the support but still feeling the weight of the moment. The audience clapped as the previous performer left the stage, and Rick stepped up to the mic.
"Alright, folks, let's keep this night going! Up next, we've got a talented up-and-comer. Give it up for Allen Reid!"
A smattering of applause filled the room as Allen grabbed his guitar and made his way to the stage. His legs felt heavy, like he was walking through wet sand, but he forced himself forward. The spotlight hit him, blinding him for a moment, and as he stepped up to the mic, he felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
He adjusted the mic stand and took a deep breath. The room was quieter now, the audience waiting for him to start. His heart pounded so loud he could hear it in his ears. The guitar felt solid in his hands, but his fingers felt like they might slip at any moment.
"Hey, everyone," Allen said into the mic, his voice slightly shaky. "Thanks for coming out tonight. I'm Allen Reid, and I'm gonna play a couple songs for you."
He strummed a few chords to get a feel for the room. The sound was crisp, his upgraded Guitar skill working like a charm. His fingers moved with precision, and despite the nerves, he felt a small surge of confidence. This was it. His chance to prove to himself that he could do this.
He launched into the first song, a cover of a popular indie track. It was familiar, something he had practiced a lot to warm up. As the first few notes rang out, he could feel the room settle in. People swayed to the music, nodding along. It wasn't the most technical song, but it let him get comfortable. By the time he hit the chorus, he felt the tension in his body begin to ease.
The audience responded well, clapping and cheering softly at the end of the first song. Allen smiled, grateful for the positive energy. It was helping him loosen up. He glanced out at the crowd and caught a few encouraging nods from people who seemed genuinely invested in his performance.
He adjusted the mic again, taking a deep breath. "Alright, this next one's an original. It's called 'Fading Lights.' Hope you like it."
This was the moment. The song that had brought him this far, the song that had started it all. He couldn't afford to mess this up.
He started strumming, the opening notes of "Fading Lights" filling the room. His voice, now at a solid 5/10 thanks to the system upgrade, felt strong and controlled as he sang the first verse. The crowd was still, their attention fixed on him. For a moment, he forgot about the competition, the pressure, and just focused on the music. His voice and the guitar flowed together in a way that felt natural, like the song had been inside him all along.
As he hit the chorus, he could feel the room shift. People were leaning in, connecting with the song in a way that was palpable. It was a song about loss, about feeling adrift, and it seemed to resonate with the audience. Allen could see a few people closing their eyes, letting the music wash over them. It was the kind of connection he had always wanted to make with his music.
By the time he reached the final chorus, the nervousness was gone. It was just him, the music, and the audience. He strummed the last chord and let the final note hang in the air, the room completely silent for a beat before the applause erupted.
It wasn't a roaring stadium-level applause, but it was real. People were clapping, cheering, and a few even stood up. Allen smiled, the weight in his chest lifting as the adrenaline surged through him. He had done it. He had played his song, and people liked it.
He gave a small bow, still feeling a little awkward in the spotlight. "Thank you so much," he said into the mic. "I really appreciate it."
As he stepped off the stage, Benji was waiting with a huge grin on his face. "Dude, that was killer! You crushed it!"
Allen laughed, the tension finally releasing from his body. "I didn't totally choke, so I guess that's something."
"You didn't just not choke—you nailed it," Benji said, clapping him on the back. "I told you. You've got this."
Allen smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment settle over him. The Hive showcase wasn't the competition, but it was a step. A big step. And it had gone better than he could have hoped.
But as the night wound down and Allen reflected on his performance, he knew that this was just the beginning. The real challenge was still ahead. The competition was looming, and he had to be ready for it. Tonight, had given him a boost of confidence, but he couldn't get complacent. There was still work to be done, still skills to improve, and still battles to be fought—both on stage and within himself.
For now, though, he would let himself enjoy this victory, no matter how small it was.