The hospital room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the soft whoosh of air conditioning. Sunlight streamed through half-drawn curtains, painting golden bars across the sterile floor tiles. Steven Blake lay against a mound of pillows, his torso swathed in bandages, his arms bruised and stiff. He shifted slightly, a dull ache throbbing in his ribs—a reminder of the brutal clash he had survived.
The battle was over, but its echoes still lingered in his body.
The door creaked open. Veronica peeked in first, her chestnut hair glowing in the sunlight. Her bright eyes softened the moment they landed on him, relief washing over her face. She carried a thermos in both hands as though it were the most precious thing in the world. Behind her darted Lily—his little sister—her school uniform slightly wrinkled from the hurried trip from Virelion Boarding School.
"Steven!" Lily cried, rushing to his bedside. She latched onto his arm, clinging to him like she used to when they were kids. Her small frame trembled with worry.
A few steps later, their parents entered. His mother's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips pressed together as if afraid he might vanish if she spoke too loudly. His father followed, hands clenched at his sides, the usual stern mask cracked by the faint tremor in his jaw.
"Steven…" his mother whispered. "You nearly gave us a heart attack."
"I'm fine, Mom." Steven forced a smile, though his lips were pale. "Just a scratch or two."
His father's voice rumbled like gravel. "A scratch? You were carried in half-conscious with blood all over you. Don't downplay it, son." Yet, even as he scolded, there was relief in his gaze, a quiet pride that Steven recognized but his father rarely voiced.
Veronica set the thermos on the side table with deliberate care. "Enough talk. Steven needs proper food, not that bland mush the hospital serves." She unscrewed the lid, steam curling into the air, filling the room with a rich aroma of chicken broth, vegetables, and herbs.
"I made this myself," she declared, puffing her cheeks in mock pride. "So you'd better eat every drop."
Steven chuckled, his chest aching with the effort. "If it tastes half as good as it smells, I'll drink the whole pot."
The room warmed with soft laughter—an oasis of peace after the chaos that had nearly cost him his life.
Veronica's Eyes
Veronica spooned the soup carefully, blowing gently before bringing it to his lips. She smiled when he took the first sip, but inside, her chest tightened. She remembered seeing him crumple, blood staining his shirt, his body trembling in her arms. She had smiled then too, for his sake, but the fear had nearly broken her.
Now, watching him sip her soup like a fragile patient instead of the unshakable Steven Blake the world admired, she realized just how human he was.
I won't let you go through that again, she vowed silently. If I have to fight alongside you, I will. If I have to build a world where you're never cornered like that, I'll do it.
Steven looked up at her, and for a heartbeat, she thought he had heard her thoughts. His smile reached his eyes, warm and reassuring, as though telling her he'd be fine.
After some time together, Steven persuaded them to leave, claiming he needed rest. When the room fell silent again, he closed his eyes and issued a mental command.
System, open panel.
A holographic interface shimmered into existence above him.
[SUPER GROWTH SYSTEM]Host: Steven Blake
Stats
Strength: 50
Agility: 50
Stamina: 50
Intelligence: 75
Charisma: 70
Luck: 170
Cultivation: CultivatorMana: 1000Force: 1000
3 Lucky Draws Available. [Draw]
Steven inhaled deeply and tapped on the button. Three golden wheels appeared, spinning rapidly, each one glowing with mysterious symbols.
"Stop." His voice was steady despite the anticipation twisting in his gut.
The wheels slowed, one by one, before halting with a resounding chime.
Lucky Draw 1: Tycoon Treasure Trove.Lucky Draw 2: Miscellaneous Skill Trove.Lucky Draw 3: Rich Guy Treasure Chest.
Three chests materialized before him, each humming with energy.
He reached for the first chest. The lid burst open in a flash of light, revealing a glowing white screen.
Tycoon Treasure Trove: Received 1 Billion USD, Ownership of Aurora Airlines, Ownership of Elven Grove Resorts.
Steven's breath caught.
Aurora Airlines. A titan of the skies, with routes spanning continents, assets in the tens of billions, and global recognition. Elven Grove Resorts—a brand whispered with reverence in the luxury world, with five-star hotels, beachside paradises, and Michelin-starred restaurants.
"Heavens…" he whispered. "I just… own them now?"
As if to answer, his phone buzzed violently on the table. Caller ID: Jonathan Reed, CEO, Aurora Airlines.
Steven hesitated, then picked up. "Hello?"
"Mr. Blake?" The man's voice trembled with awe. "This is Jonathan Reed. I… I wanted to extend my personal congratulations. The transfer has been verified. Effective immediately, Aurora Airlines belongs to you. The entire board is eager to meet you…"
Steven's throat went dry. "I see. Thank you, Mr. Reed. We'll speak soon."
Before he could process, another call came. This time, Margaret Lane, Global Director, Elven Grove Resorts.
"Mr. Blake," Margaret's crisp yet excited tone carried a mixture of relief and admiration. "On behalf of the entire Elven Grove family, welcome. We look forward to your vision for our future."
Steven set the phone down slowly, staring at the holographic panel. His heart pounded. Overnight, his dream of elevating Heavenly Dine had become irrelevant—because now, he owned the company he once idolized.
With trembling hands he tapped on the second chest. Another white screen revealed its content.
Miscellaneous Skill Trove: Skill Unlocked: Hacking (Expert), Traditional Medicine (Expert), Firearms Mastery (Expert), Swordsmanship (Expert)
A rush of energy surged into him. His mind flooded with cascading streams of knowledge—encryption codes unraveling, herbs and acupuncture points glowing in his memory, the feel of a gun's recoil settling into his muscles, the weight of a blade as though he had trained with it all his life. His body shivered violently, then steadied, every nerve sharper, every sense keener.
Steven gasped. His hand instinctively curled into a fist, then relaxed. He knew he could pick up a sword and fight like a master. He could diagnose an illness at a glance. He could slip into a secure server and dismantle it like a toy.
"This… this is insane."
Finally, he opened the third chest.
Rich Guy Treasure Chest: Received 500 Million USD. Ownership of Costa Marica Island. Ownership of the luxury super yacht Aquarius. Ownership of the luxury private plane Zephyr's Kiss.
A hologram expanded, projecting the island into the air before him.
Costa Marica shimmered like paradise—a crescent of golden sand, turquoise waves lapping its shores, lush green hills crowned with mansions. The view shifted, showing the sprawling golf course, the gleaming helipad, the glass-domed theaters and clubs, the steaming natural hot springs, and the private airport where Zephyr's Kiss awaited. Then came the dock—where the Aquarius rested, a floating palace with its polished decks and glittering pools.
Steven's lips parted in wonder. He had read about Costa Marica years ago, a small island near New York, was once a humble fishing spot frequented by local fishermen. Later, a billionaire purchased the island and transformed it into a super-luxurious retreat for his retirement. However, he eventually abandoned it, which sparked significant media attention at the time. The story of buying an entire island, developing it into a lavish paradise, and then leaving it behind captivated many.
Costa Marica Island had everything one could dream of for a luxurious getaway—it was the epitome of indulgence and sophistication. Yet here it was, his.
"This is…" He exhaled, a smile tugging his lips. "This is just the beginning."
In mere days, Steven recovered at a pace that stunned even the doctors. "A miracle," they called it. To him, it was just the system. Still, walking out of the hospital, sunlight warm on his face, he felt stronger than ever—not just in body, but in destiny.
When he stepped back into class, the room erupted.
"Steven's back!""Man, we missed you."
Laughter filled the air, though reverence glimmered in many eyes. His performance at the Investment Gala and his recent disappearance had etched his name in whispers and speculation. Now, seeing him whole again, his classmates couldn't help but admire him.
Lisa Bloomheart waved from her seat, her smile radiant. Beside her sat Leon Black, his once-rough demeanor softened, his hand brushing against hers. Their bond was obvious. Steven nodded at them, genuinely glad.
Arnold, however, scowled from the corner. He opened his mouth, but when Steven's gaze brushed him, he shut it again. His father's warning weighed heavy—cross Steven Blake, and you invite ruin.
Steven sat down, Veronica squeezing his hand under the desk. He let his eyes roam the room, feeling the shifting currents of respect, envy, and admiration.
For the first time, he realized: he wasn't just another student anymore. He was becoming a legend.