Chapter 9
Daniel leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Ray. There was a part of him that felt a sliver of pity. Ray had been a cog in the same broken machine, just higher up the chain. But that pity was swallowed by the memory of all the times Ray had dumped responsibility on him, of all the times he’d turned a blind eye to Leo’s abuse. Ray’s downfall was the result of his own choices, his own complacency.
You let it happen, Ray, Daniel thought. You let Leo’s favoritism slide. You let me carry the weight until it crushed you.
But despite it all, Daniel knew this was a turning point. The cracks were spreading, the old hierarchies crumbling. The system that had overlooked and exploited him was finally showing its weaknesses.
Ray’s shaky breath broke the silence. He opened his eyes, the defeat still etched deeply in his face. He didn’t look at anyone, his gaze fixed on his screen, but his hands trembled as he reached for his mouse.
Daniel turned back to his own monitor, the Minecraft video still playing, its cheerful commentary a stark contrast to the atmosphere in the room. He wasn’t ready to feel sorry for Ray. Not yet.
If they’re giving you a week’s notice, Ray, Daniel thought, you’ll finally know what it feels like to be on the edge, to wonder if anyone’s got your back.
And for once, Daniel didn’t care if anyone had Ray’s back. Because for too long, no one had his.
The days blurred together in a dull, repetitive cycle. Each morning, Daniel dragged himself out of bed, the weight of routine pressing down on his shoulders. The office felt colder, emptier somehow, the echoes of Ray’s warning and the tense atmosphere lingering like a ghost.
He completed his tasks with his usual, lightning-fast efficiency, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as if guided by an unseen force. Requests that would normally take hours were finished in minutes. His coworkers noticed his speed, but they said nothing — a silent acknowledgment that Daniel’s output was unmatched, even if his contributions were unappreciated.
When his workload lightened, he would open Minecraft videos, the cheerful pixelated world offering a fleeting escape from the monotony. The bright commentary and simple joy of the game reminded him that there were places, even if only virtual, where creativity and effort were rewarded.
But Daniel wasn’t just killing time; he was honing his abilities. Each afternoon, he practiced building websites, crafting sleek designs and functional interfaces that only he used. The code flowed effortlessly, lines appearing on the screen with flawless precision. He refined his skills, adding more complexity, more efficiency — sharpening his edge. This was preparation for the moment he knew was coming: the day he’d take on the task of developing the company’s web portals.
Another step toward the plan, he reminded himself.
He was going to save the company millions. He was going to make himself indispensable. And when the time was right, he would leave — and they would feel the void he left behind like a missing heartbeat.
Each day felt like a countdown. The sense of impending change grew stronger, fueling his quiet determination. Daniel’s powers were more refined now, more controlled. He could bend the digital world to his will, and soon, he would bend the company’s future, too.
No one saw the storm he was preparing. No one noticed the quiet confidence building behind his eyes. They were too lost in their own routines, their own blind complacency.
But when the moment came, they would see. They would all see. And by then, it would be too late.
One day, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Daniel sat on his usual bench in the park, the crisp evening air carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. He leaned back, letting the day’s weight slip off his shoulders, the quiet rustle of leaves offering a moment of peace.
But the calm didn’t last.
Footsteps, deliberate and heavy, approached from behind. Daniel’s muscles tensed slightly, a flicker of instinct warning him before he even turned his head. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Leo.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face the approaching figure. Leo’s face was twisted in anger, his eyes dark with suspicion and frustration. He stopped just a few feet away, his presence radiating hostility.
“You,” Leo spat, his voice low and dangerous. “We need to talk.”
Daniel didn’t move, didn’t flinch. The fear Leo used to inspire had evaporated long ago. He looked up calmly, his expression neutral. “What do you want, Leo?”
Leo’s jaw clenched. “Cut the crap, Daniel. Were you the one snitching on me behind my back?”
Daniel raised an eyebrow, his voice cool and measured. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Leo’s face turned red, his fists clenching at his sides. His voice rose, venom dripping from each word. “Don’t play dumb! You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t lie to me — just tell me the truth!”
The words echoed in the quiet park, shattering the calm. Passersby glanced over but quickly looked away, not wanting to get involved.
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Slowly, Daniel stood up. He wasn’t intimidated. Not anymore. He met Leo’s furious gaze with a calm, unflinching stare.
“Whatever you got, Leo, you deserved it.” His voice was steady, every word landing like a hammer blow. “I didn’t say anything about you to anyone. But don’t think for a second that I couldn’t. I could make everything worse for you if I decided to tell the full details of how you’ve treated me.”
Leo’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Shock and fear flickered across his features, the realization settling in that he no longer had control. The dynamic had shifted, and for once, Leo was on the receiving end of powerlessness.
Daniel took a step closer, his voice low and firm. “Think about that the next time you decide to pick on someone who’s had enough. You’re not untouchable, Leo. Not anymore.”
Leo stumbled back a step, his confidence shattered, fear gripping his limbs. He looked at Daniel as if seeing him for the first time — not as a punching bag, but as someone who could destroy him with the truth.
Without another word, Leo turned and walked away, his steps quick and unsteady. The bully who had once lorded over him now looked like a man running from his own shadow.
Daniel took a deep breath, the weight of years of intimidation lifting off his shoulders. The park felt brighter, the air fresher. He sat back down, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.
This is only the beginning, he thought. I’m not afraid anymore. And they’re finally starting to realize it.
The golden hues of the setting sun bathed the park in warmth, casting long shadows through the trees. Daniel stretched his legs out in front of him, the wooden bench cool beneath his fingertips. The tranquility of the scene stood in stark contrast to the storm brewing within him. He had reached the point of mastery — over his powers, his confidence, and the quiet vengeance he was ready to unleash.
They deserve every bit of it, he thought, his eyes tracing the gentle ripples of a nearby pond. Leo and Ray had left scars on him with their cruelty — scars that didn’t fade easily. But now, the tables had turned. He had power, real power, and he knew exactly how to wield it.
He leaned back, savoring the fresh air, letting the peace of the park ground him before he launched into his next phase. The company was on the brink of depending on him completely. He would develop the web portals, flawless in design and execution. They would become so integral to operations that his absence would leave a void they couldn’t hope to fill.
And when I walk away, he mused, they’ll watch everything unravel.
But before that day came, he would toy with Leo’s and Ray’s anxieties, chip away at their fragile confidence until it crumbled to dust. He wanted them to feel the same dread, the same helplessness he had endured for far too long. The sleepless nights. The pit in the stomach. The relentless pressure of knowing the walls were closing in.
Leo, who had used him as a verbal punching bag, would now feel the sting of paranoia — constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering when the final blow would come. Daniel would make sure Leo’s every failure was magnified, his every misstep scrutinized, until the weight of it drove him to the edge.
Ray, who had dumped responsibilities on him while claiming the credit, would experience the hollow fear of losing his position, his authority slipping like sand through his fingers. Daniel would let Ray taste the bitter realization that his leadership was a façade, held up only by Daniel’s unseen efforts.
They’ll destroy themselves, Daniel thought. I just need to give them a little push.
The mastery of his powers meant more than just speed and efficiency. It meant precision, control, and the ability to pull strings without anyone realizing who held them. He could already see it playing out — the chaos, the breakdowns, the desperate attempts to salvage what was left of their careers.
For now, though, he let the calm of the park wash over him. The birds sang in the trees, the breeze rustled the leaves, and for the first time in a long while, Daniel felt truly at ease. He was no longer a victim of his circumstances. He was the architect of their downfall.
He closed his eyes, a satisfied smile curving his lips.
Let them stew in their own anxieties. The reckoning is coming.
As the last streaks of twilight faded, Daniel stepped into his apartment, the familiar comfort of home enveloping him. He dropped his bag by the door, a sense of excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He was no longer weighed down by thoughts of the office, Leo, or Ray — tonight, he was going to unwind and explore the limits of his powers.
He settled into his chair, the soft glow of his laptop screen illuminating his determined expression. Instead of the usual click over to CS:GO, he hovered over the Reubex icon and double-clicked. The familiar loading screen appeared, and a thrill of nostalgia swept through him. Reubex was a different kind of escape — a boundless world of creativity and possibilities.
He scrolled through the games list and noticed something new: Fishx. The colorful thumbnail showed characters with fishing rods by a serene lake, surrounded by vibrant landscapes and glimmering water. A smile tugged at his lips. Why not?
He joined the game, spawning in a lush environment with rolling hills, sparkling water, and avatars scattered along the shore, casting their lines and chatting excitedly. The simplicity of it was refreshing. He picked up a fishing rod and made his way to the water’s edge.
His first cast was smooth, the line zipping out and landing with a soft plop. He watched the bobber float for a moment, then narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing. Let’s catch something rare.
A familiar warmth tingled through his fingertips, and within moments, the bobber jerked violently. He clicked to reel in, and the game flashed a notification: Legendary Phoenix Carp Caught! The chat erupted with messages from other players, their envy and disbelief clear.
> “What?? How did you catch that?!”
“No way! I’ve been trying for hours!”
Daniel chuckled softly. Works like a charm.
He glanced at his in-game balance — modest, barely enough for upgrades. He leaned back, a spark of curiosity flickering in his mind. Can I give myself more money? He focused again, visualizing a hefty balance. The numbers on the screen flickered for a moment before changing.
In-Game Balance: 100,000 Coins
His eyes widened in delight. It worked. He could manipulate not just client-side actions but the server-side values, too. The realization hit him like a wave.
I can change server data.
The possibilities unraveled before him like a limitless web. He wasn’t bound by the rules anymore, not in Reubex and not in reality. He could bend digital systems to his will — alter values, manipulate outcomes, and rewrite the rules that governed these virtual worlds.
A sense of power settled over him, exhilarating and profound. If he could do this in a game, what else could he alter? Systems at work, data that others relied on, outcomes that seemed fixed — all of it was within his reach, ready to be reshaped.