The workshop was silent except for the faint hum of the prototype. Ethan sat in the dark, the only light the soft blue glow of the system lens. His hands rested on the table, fingers twitching as though they couldn't forget the way Harland's presence had pressed down on him like a storm.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that smile—sharp, amused, certain. The smile of a man who had already mapped out his defeat.
The system's newest demand pulsed across his vision:
> \[Quest: Establish Your First Official Division.]
> Objective: Recruit a loyal candidate to oversee operations.]
> Reward: 500 Points + Division Unlock.]
> Time Limit: 9 Days, 22 Hours.]
Nine days. Less than ten before everything unraveled.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. A division meant more than a name. It meant structure, legitimacy, exposure. He would need someone to run it—someone the system would recognize as loyal, someone capable of holding ground when Harland's claws came scraping.
But how?
He didn't even trust himself half the time. How was he supposed to hand over a piece of Tomorrow Works to another person?
The thought gnawed at him. He could see Lily's face, calm and steady, but the idea of pulling her deeper terrified him. She had already done too much, sacrificed too much. If Harland realized how close she was to him, she'd become a target.
And Aria… fire burned bright in her, but she was still testing him, and he was still testing her. Trust couldn't be manufactured in a week.
He slammed his fist lightly against the table. "Damn it."
The prototype flickered, then steadied again. As though mocking him.
The lens flickered too, opening a new interface he hadn't seen before:
> [Division Framework.]
> Divisions: 0/5 (Locked)
> Candidate Slots: 0/1 Available
> Requirements: Loyalty, Competence, Alignment with Vision
Beneath it, faint icons glowed—empty silhouettes waiting to be filled.
And another prompt appeared:
> \[Tip: Division leaders are not just employees. They are pillars. Choose wrong, and collapse follows.]
The words were blunt, heavy. They weren't a suggestion. They were a warning.
Ethan stood, pacing across the cramped workshop. His mind spun through names, contacts, anyone he could think of. But he wasn't well-connected. He was an engineer, a tinkerer, someone who had spent most of his life with circuits and gears instead of people.
He thought of the fair, of the professors and entrepreneurs who had seen the demonstration. A few had seemed intrigued. Would any of them bite? Would any of them risk standing against Harland?
Probably not.
He dragged his hand through his hair, frustration mounting.
The lens chimed softly.
> \[Side Quest Available: Identify Potential Candidate.]
> Objective: Conduct interviews with at least 3 prospects.]
> Reward: 50 Points + Compatibility Scan.]
> Time Limit: 72 Hours.]
Ethan froze. "Interviews?"
The word alone made his stomach turn. He'd never interviewed anyone in his life. The thought of sitting across from strangers, pretending he had any idea how to judge them—it was absurd.
But the system wasn't giving him a choice.
He opened the new interface, scrolling through names. Somehow, the system had compiled a list of people who had expressed interest at the fair. Their names floated before him:
Marcus Ivers – engineering grad student, drone specialist.
Sofia Brandt – logistics coordinator, sharp-eyed and efficient.
Devon Hale– former startup founder, recently bankrupt.
Each name carried a faint glow, as though the system had marked them as possibilities.
Ethan exhaled, sinking back into the chair. "So this is it, huh? My first step into leadership."
The word tasted strange. He'd never wanted to lead. All he wanted was to build. But the system was relentless—it wasn't shaping him into a lone inventor. It was dragging him into something bigger, whether he wanted it or not.
---
The next morning, Ethan sent messages. His hands shook as he typed, his words clumsy, his invitations awkward.
Two replied quickly—Marcus and Sofia. Devon's response came later, a short, almost bitter acceptance.
By noon, the first meeting was scheduled.
Ethan sat at the workshop table, the prototype glowing faintly beside him. He checked the system timer again.
> \[Side Quest: Identify Potential Candidate.]
> Time Remaining: 71 Hours.]
His heart hammered. Three days to find the person who could anchor Tomorrow Works. Three days to gamble his entire future on the loyalty of a stranger.
He looked at the door, waiting for the first knock.
And he wondered—not for the first time—if Harland was already moving his own pieces into place.
---
The knock came sharp and sudden, making him jolt. Ethan rose, wiped his hands on his jeans, and opened the door.
Marcus Ivers stood there—a lanky young man with messy hair, a nervous smile, and a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He looked more like a student cramming for finals than someone ready to run a division of a futuristic company.
But his eyes—his eyes were bright with curiosity, the kind Ethan recognized in himself.
"Mr. Cole?" Marcus asked, extending a hand.
Ethan hesitated only a second before shaking it. "Just Ethan."
Marcus stepped inside, eyes immediately drawn to the prototype on the table. His breath hitched. "Is that—"
"Yeah," Ethan said quietly. "It is."
Marcus set his bag down, his excitement spilling over. "I've read everything I could about your demo at the fair. People said it had to be staged, that no way it was real—but if it is…" His hands gestured wildly. "This changes everything."
Ethan studied him. Enthusiasm wasn't enough. Enthusiasm burned bright, but it burned out fast. He needed more than excitement. He needed resilience.
The system chimed softly in his vision.
> [Candidate Scan: Marcus Ivers – Potential Alignment: 52%. Loyalty: Unverified.]
Not strong. Not impossible either.
Ethan forced himself to breathe. This was just the beginning.
He motioned toward the chair. "Let's talk."
---
For hours, they spoke—about drones, about energy systems, about the nature of invention itself. Marcus rambled, Ethan listened, and the more he listened, the more he saw the outlines of possibility.
But possibility wasn't loyalty.
And loyalty was everything.
When Marcus finally left, Ethan sank back into his chair, exhaustion pulling at him. The system displayed the updated scan:
> [Candidate Compatibility: 54%. Loyalty: Pending.]
Not enough. Not yet.
Two more names waited. Two more chances.
Ethan closed his eyes, the weight pressing heavier than ever.
Harland's words echoed in his skull: Sparks die without fuel.
Maybe he was right.
But Ethan clenched his fists, jaw tight. Sparks could also start wildfires.
And he wasn't about to let his go out.