Chapter 1: Slum Boy's Sky
The year was 2025, and progress had never been more brutal.
Skyscrapers glistened in the wealthy parts of the city, AI robots served breakfast to the rich, drones delivered groceries within minutes, and private electric jets hummed above in silent luxury. But just twenty blocks away, beneath the massive neon billboards and commercial smiles of mega-billionaire faces, slums festered in silence.
Zone K-13 was one such forgotten place.
Dilapidated shacks made of bent aluminum sheets, dirt paths instead of roads, and a smell of rusted water, sweat, and smog. It wasn't just a neighborhood. It was a wound.
And it was home to Reyan, an 18-year-old boy with cracked hands, sun-burnt skin, and a soul that carried more weight than his shoulders ever should.
He wasn't a dreamer. He didn't have time to dream.
Reyan woke up at 4:30 AM, every single morning. No alarms. Just the scream of poverty and responsibility. His parents had died in a fire five years ago—a faulty short circuit in a rental slum house. Since then, he had only one purpose:
His little sister.
Arya. 17. Smart. Beautiful. Hurt.
She studied hard, kept to herself, and never asked for more than what she was given. But she was bullied—mocked for her torn uniform, her recycled shoes, and her brother delivering food on a broken e-scooter in the rain just to pay for her school.
Reyan worked four jobs. Dishwasher. Courier. Night cleaner. Garbage sorter.
Each night, when others rested, he counted coins.
Each morning, when others whined about Mondays, he stitched broken soles.
He saved. Always saved.
For Arya's future. A small apartment someday. Maybe a college fund.
But that night...
Everything changed.
---
The rain hit hard. He had one last delivery to make: Apartment Tower D77—a luxury complex where one meal cost more than what Reyan made in two weeks.
He was on his scooter, his hands numb, eyes blinking through stormwater, when the accident happened.
A self-driving cargo truck swerved suddenly—sensor malfunction. Reyan's scooter flipped mid-air. His head cracked against the edge of a curb. A tire rolled close to his neck.
Everything turned black.
Then…
White.
He was floating.
Or so he thought.
He opened his eyes, not in a hospital… but on a quiet, dark street. The same slum street. But no people. No sound. No rain. Just a cold silence.
And then, out of nowhere—
> "Master."
A voice. Soft, yet ancient.
He turned.
A glowing figure in a butler's uniform stood calmly, silver monocle on one eye, holding a floating briefcase of gold.
> "You have survived a fatal event. The world has decided that you are worthy of intervention."
> "What…?"
Reyan staggered, still bleeding.
> "I am your exclusive financial system: INFINITY WEALTH CORE. You are the sole recipient of 999 CENTILLION USD, now deposited into your universal vault."
Reyan blinked.
999 CENTILLION?
That was more than the total value of the entire Earth's economy for the next billion years. That wasn't money—it was divine power.
The butler continued:
> "This system is unique. Only you can access it. No one else will know unless you reveal it. You can buy, reshape, own, and control anything in this world. Everything is legal. There are no limits."
> "Why… me?"
> "Because you kept going. When others gave up. When the world broke your bones, you stitched your soul and walked again."
> "What about Arya?" Reyan's voice cracked.
> "Your sister is now under the highest protection protocols. Her safety, future, and dreams are yours to command."
And in a flash, the street returned. The rain continued.
Reyan was lying on the sidewalk, but the pain was fading. His wounds—healed.
He stood up slowly. Checked his cheap delivery uniform. Nothing torn. No bruises. Only his heart still trembling.
His old phone vibrated.
[Bank Notification: $999,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 deposited.]
[Source: IWC System. Cleared. Irreversible.]
His hands shook.
And then... he smiled for the first time in years.
> "Let's begin."