LOGINBullied. Broke. Betrayed. 20-year-old Ethan Reyes is at rock bottom—until a mysterious A.I. system grants him unimaginable wealth and power. With the Trillionaire System, he’ll rise from a forgotten nobody to the richest man in the country. Those who mocked him will kneel. Those who betrayed him will pay. But as enemies emerge and loyalties are tested, Ethan learns that money isn’t everything—love, loyalty, and revenge are priceless.
View MoreRain lashed down on the cracked pavement outside Northern University’s east gate, soaking through Ethan Reyes’s cheap hoodie as he trudged down the sidewalk, head bowed against the storm. Each drop that splashed against his skin felt like the universe mocking him. Again.
He tightened his grip on his old canvas backpack—threadbare, patched with tape, and filled with secondhand textbooks and half-dead dreams. Behind him, laughter echoed from the canteen, the mocking kind that followed him everywhere on campus.
“Hey, Reyes!” a voice called out, sharp and amused. Ethan didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He already knew who it was.
Bryce Tan. Star athlete. Campus prince. The same guy who used to cheat off Ethan during freshman year, and now treated him like a joke for sport.
“I saw your ex with her new man. Bro, he drives a Porsche!” Bryce shouted, loud enough for a dozen other students to hear.
A few passing girls giggled.
Ethan kept walking, fists clenched in his pockets.
Ex.
Talia. His first love. The girl who once promised she loved his “kind heart” and “ambition.”
Three weeks ago, she’d dumped him in the middle of the cafeteria after livestreaming it on her social media. She’d called him poor, pathetic, and a waste of time—all while her new boyfriend watched smugly from the sidelines.
Since then, Ethan had kept his head down. Study. Eat cheap. Avoid everyone.
But even the shadows weren’t safe anymore.
He reached his tiny rental room just off campus—barely ten square meters, with a flickering lightbulb and a window that didn’t shut properly. A single mattress lay on the floor, beside a desk stacked with printouts and notes. On the wall, he’d pinned a few hand-scribbled quotes—his attempt at motivation:
“One day, they’ll regret it.”
“Work in silence. Let success be your noise.”
Lately, though, even those words rang hollow.
He slumped onto the mattress, soaked through. His phone buzzed.
[New Message: Mom]
Ethan, your uncle’s son got accepted into a top firm. Maybe ask him for tips? You’re already 20. What are you doing with your life?
He didn’t reply.
A second message came.
And can you send back the $50 we lent you last month? Your dad’s not made of money.
Lent? Ethan wanted to scream. He hadn’t even asked for the money. They’d offered—then reminded him of it every other day since.
He tossed the phone aside.
No girlfriend. No friends. No support. Just debt, ridicule, and a future that looked darker than the night outside.
Maybe they were right. Maybe he was nothing.
He stared at the ceiling.
“What’s the point?” he muttered.
Suddenly—
DING.
His phone lit up with a strange notification:
🔔 SYSTEM BOOTING…
Welcome, Ethan Reyes. You have been selected. Initializing: Trillionaire System. Please remain still.He blinked.
“…What the hell?”
He picked up the phone. The screen had gone black. Then words began scrolling across it, glowing in neon blue.
Installing System Core… 10%… 25%…
Scanning Host Attributes… – Intelligence: 89/100 – Resilience: 92/100 – Potential: 98/100 – Current Assets: $1.47Status: PATHETIC.
Urgency Level: CRITICAL. Commencing Startup Protocols…His heart pounded.
This had to be a prank. A virus. Something.
“System?” he whispered, voice shaking.
✅ Installation Complete.
Welcome to the Trillionaire System, Ethan Reyes. You are now the designated host of the world’s most advanced wealth-generation A.I.Mission: Become the richest man in your country.
Time limit: None. Support: Unlimited.“Wait, what?” Ethan sat upright.
Rewarding host with starter package…
💵 $10,000,000.00 deposited to temporary account.His phone vibrated violently.
Another notification appeared—this time from his banking app.
[Bank: Incoming Transfer – $10,000,000.00]
Ethan froze.
Ten. Million. Dollars.
His mind went blank.
Then, like a dam bursting, a hundred thoughts flooded in.
Is this real?
Am I dreaming? Did someone drug me? What kind of sick joke—✅ Verified: Balance real and accessible.
Note: Host may withdraw, invest, or use funds as desired. First mission unlocked: Mission #001 – Prove Them Wrong Objective: Use your first investment to humiliate one major bully. Reward: 1x Company Ownership Token.Ethan stood up, breathing hard.
The system’s voice wasn’t human. It was emotionless. Robotic. But in that moment, it felt more alive than anything else in his miserable world.
“Why me?” he asked.
Scanning...
Answer: Because you were ignored. Beaten down. Betrayed. This system only awakens in those the world has discarded.And now… the world will pay for that mistake.
Ethan stared at the glowing screen. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from something deeper.
Hope.
He could feel it blooming, like fire in his chest.
Ten million dollars. A mysterious system. And a mission to become the richest man alive.
This wasn’t a dream.
This was a reset.Outside, the storm raged on.
But inside that tiny, broken room… something had changed.
Ethan Reyes was no longer nobody.
He was the future trillionaire.
And his revenge?
Had just begun.
The city did not sleep.It pretended to—lights dimmed, streets quiet, shutters closed—but beneath the stillness, Garden City listened. After everything that had happened, sleep had become a performance, not a state. People lay on beds with eyes open, hands resting on radios that no longer crackled, on knives that had never been sharpened for show. The ground itself felt alert, as if it remembered learning how to fight back and hadn’t forgotten the lesson.Ethan stood on the upper maintenance balcony of Tower Seven, coat pulled tight against the night wind. Below him, the city stretched out in layered darkness, broken only by deliberate pinpricks of light—signal lamps placed not for illumination, but for coordination. Each one was manned. Each one watched another.The Whisper Team had gone quiet.That, more than anything, unsettled him.They had struck once already—fast, surgical, almost polite in the way only professionals could be. A relay sabotaged without collateral damage. A convo
Hi Everyone.I hope you are enjoying the second volume of the Who's The Loser Series.I will be taking the rest of the year off to celebrate the holiday season.Rest assured, I will be back at the new year to continue writing this book, among others.There will be more twists and turns along the way.And as always, your support, comments and feedback are always appreciated. Please leave a comment to let me know how I am doing with the story and how I can improve in the future.So until then, I wish you one and all a very blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year.Love,JDHWS
The first sign wasn’t sound. It was the absence of it.Garden City had settled into a fragile stillness after the chaos of the last hours — barricades half-rebuilt, towers dimmed, citizens stationed at windows like silent sentries. The Whisper Team had withdrawn deeper into the outer blocks after their failed incursion, their retreat too measured to be defeat. Everyone knew it. Whisper didn’t panic. Whisper repositioned.And somewhere between midnight and dawn, the air tightened into something brittle.Ethan felt it before he heard it. A pressure change, like the city was inhaling all at once. He stepped out onto the upper parapet with Jun at his back, looking down on a district holding its breath.“Too quiet,” Jun muttered.“Too organized,” Ethan replied.Below, Mira and Leah were directing evac routes from the tram-clinic steps. Alexander was kneeling over a transmitter, rewiring its core from scratch. Cira moved between groups with a slate full of messages she hadn’t had time to p
By dawn the fog over the eastern ridge had turned the color of old bruises. Smoke lay inside it, thin and bitter, tracing where the night had gone wrong.Whisper Team had slipped in under cover of that same fog hours earlier—shadows inside a larger shadow, pulse rifles shrouded, helmets fed by Dominion’s last clean satellite link. They had expected patterns they knew: frightened militia, scattered resistance, a city still learning how to wear its courage.Instead, the ground itself had moved.Now the fog hid bodies.Far below the ridge, in a culvert where the creek choked on rubble, a woman in matte-black armor lay half-submerged, visor cracked. A fiber line looped around her boot, leading back to an innocuous box that had once powered a tram signal. It had detonated when her boot crossed it, not like a mine—louder, angrier. The blast had been calculated not to shred but to throw, hurling her into the culvert where the water swallowed her screams. The city had learned to disarm withou






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