Chapter 8: Into the Fray
The hostel room felt smaller every day. Nate leaned back in the creaky chair, his laptop open on the makeshift desk he'd fashioned out of stacked cardboard boxes. The numbers on the screen had been ticking steadily upward since he first touched that glowing flow chart. Just yesterday, he'd crossed $20,000 in his account. And yet, the money itself wasn't what made his chest tighten in anticipation. It was the way the system had changed him, reshaped his body, sharpened his mind. He wasn't just growing wealthier—he was becoming someone new.
He minimized the trading screen and opened a market news site, scanning headlines out of habit. The system had made its latest recommendation early that morning: a mid-size tech company that was undervalued after a rocky earnings call. But even with the system's guidance, Nate had learned to do his own research. He clicked through quarterly reports, analyst opinions, and insider interviews, his eyes darting over every detail.
Before the system, Nate wouldn't have understood half of what he was reading. Now, his mind absorbed the data effortlessly, connecting dots, drawing conclusions. The system didn't just show him the path—it gave him the tools to walk it.
His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his research. He picked it up and saw a text from Lauren.
Lauren:Coffee later?
A smile tugged at his lips. Over the past few weeks, Lauren had become a surprising source of calm in his otherwise chaotic life. Her friendly, no-pressure attitude made it easy to relax, even when his mind was racing with trades and milestones. He typed a quick reply—Sure. See you at 3?—and returned to his screen.
[New market alert: Projected movement in ABC Corp stock. 12% short-term gain anticipated.]
The system's voice chimed in his head, smooth and unflappable. Nate glanced at the stock chart and noticed a sharp dip in the past week, followed by a slow recovery. He opened another tab to verify the company's recent news. A minor PR scandal had caused the drop, but it seemed the situation was already fading from public memory. The company's fundamentals were solid.
"Alright," Nate said under his breath. "Let's do it."
He moved quickly, placing a buy order with part of his account balance. The numbers blinked, the transaction processed. Another step forward. Another calculated risk.
By the time Nate met Lauren at the campus café, he had made a mental note to stop checking his account balance so often. The numbers were there, steadily growing, but staring at them wouldn't make them climb faster. He needed to focus on living his life, on the things that money couldn't buy—at least not yet.
"Hey," Lauren said as she slid into the chair across from him. "You look less stressed today."
"I'm working on it," Nate replied, sipping his coffee. "What about you? How's your week been?"
She shrugged. "Same old. Classes, work, and more classes. You?"
Nate hesitated. He couldn't exactly tell her about the system or the milestones. "Just… figuring out my next move."
Lauren raised an eyebrow. "You always say that. What are you, some kind of secret genius plotting to take over the world?"
"Something like that," Nate said with a laugh.
Their conversation flowed easily, drifting from campus gossip to upcoming exams. Lauren's laughter had a way of cutting through the noise in Nate's mind, reminding him that life wasn't all about numbers on a screen. As they finished their coffee, Lauren leaned back and stretched.
"I've got a shift at the bookstore in an hour," she said. "But you should stop by sometime. It's not the most exciting place, but it's quiet, and we've got good Wi-Fi."
"I might take you up on that," Nate said. "I've been meaning to find a new study spot."
"Well, you know where to find me." She smiled and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "See you around."
As she walked away, Nate couldn't help but feel a little lighter. Lauren had a way of grounding him, making the chaos of his life seem manageable. He finished his coffee and headed back to the hostel, ready to tackle whatever the system threw at him next.
That night, Nate dreamed of glowing charts and surging numbers, of fights in dimly lit alleys and a strange, golden light. He woke with a start, the image of a stock ticker still vivid in his mind. The room was quiet, the faint hum of the city barely audible through the thin walls. He reached for his phone and checked the time—3:27 a.m.
Something felt off. He couldn't quite place it, but a faint unease tugged at him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching. Maybe a walk would clear his head. The city never truly slept, and Nate found comfort in the soft glow of streetlights and the distant rumble of cars.
He grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the cool night air. The streets were mostly empty, the occasional cab cruising by. As he turned down a quieter block, he noticed a man standing under a flickering streetlamp, his face hidden by the brim of a hat. Nate's pulse quickened. Something about the man's posture, the way he lingered in the shadows, set off warning bells in his mind.
Nate kept walking, his footsteps steady, his gaze forward. But as he passed the man, he heard a voice—low, gravelly, and unmistakably directed at him.
"Hey, kid. Got a minute?"
Nate hesitated, his heart pounding. He glanced over his shoulder. The man stepped forward, his face partially illuminated now. He was older, maybe in his late thirties, with a lean build and sharp, calculating eyes.
"I don't have any cash," Nate said quickly, keeping his voice even.
"I'm not looking for cash," the man replied, his tone smooth. "You've been making some waves lately. Word gets around."
Nate froze. "What are you talking about?"
"Your trades," the man said. "Your moves. People notice when someone young comes out of nowhere and starts climbing the ranks. I've got an eye for talent, kid. And you? You're talented."
Nate felt a chill run down his spine. He hadn't told anyone about his trading success, not even Lauren. And yet, here was a stranger who seemed to know exactly what he'd been doing. Nate's mind raced, searching for a way out of the conversation.
"Sorry," he said, taking a step back. "You've got the wrong guy."
"Maybe," the man said with a sly smile. "Orit's all just a coincidence. Maybe you're just lucky. Or maybe… you've got something special going on."
Nate swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The man took a step closer, his smile fading. "You're smart, kid. Smart enough to keep quiet. But if I were you, I'd watch my back. Not everyone is going to sit back and let you keep winning."
Nate felt a surge of adrenaline. He knew he had to end the conversation before it went any further. Without another word, he turned and walked away, forcing himself to stay calm. The man didn't follow. He just stood there, watching Nate disappear down the street.
When Nate finally reached the safety of the hostel, he leaned against the door, his breathing uneven. His heart was still pounding, but this time it wasn't from excitement. It was fear. The system had given him an incredible edge, but it was also painting a target on his back. And if people were starting to notice, it meant that his journey was about to get a lot more dangerous.