Ethan Reyes had never been the type to believe in miracles. Growing up, he'd learned early that nobody was coming to save him, that life was just work, bills, and disappointment.
But after last night? After the capsules that cured his cold in a matter of minutes?
He wasn't so sure anymore.
Ethan sat at the wobbly desk in his cramped bedroom, staring at the mess of clutter spread across it. A cracked phone charger, the frayed cable patched with tape; his battered sneakers, soles worn thin; a rusty old wristwatch that had belonged to his dad.
The glowing System interface still hovered in the corner of his vision, faint and translucent, waiting like a silent shadow.
[Reconstruction available: 1 use.]
Ethan tapped his fingers against the desk. His pulse quickened.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath. "Let's test this thing."
He picked up the phone charger. The cable sparked faintly when plugged in, and he'd nearly electrocuted himself twice trying to make it work. If anything needed fixing, it was this.
"System," he said cautiously. "Can you… I don't know, reconstruct this?"
The mechanical voice chimed in instantly:
[Item detected: Generic phone charger, damaged condition.][Commencing decomposition.]
The charger flickered in his hand, disintegrating into tiny motes of light before vanishing completely.
Ethan jerked back in his chair.
"Oh, holy crap—"
A moment later, something solid re-formed in his palm.
[Reconstruction complete. Item created: Premium Fast-Charging Cable. Condition: Brand New.]
He blinked. The cord gleamed white, smooth and flawless, with reinforced ends and a sturdy braided design. The type of charger you'd pay thirty, maybe forty bucks for at an electronics store.
Ethan plugged it into his old phone, half-expecting it to explode.
Instead, his screen lit up immediately—charging faster than it ever had before.
His jaw dropped.
"No way."
He turned the cable over in his hands, running his fingers over the durable weave. It felt real. It was real.
A laugh escaped him, short and incredulous. "This is insane."
He sat there, staring at the charger as if it were made of gold. Technically, it might as well have been. His phone was essential—he used it for job listings, side hustles, even to budget every penny of his meager income. Now it was actually reliable again.
And if the System could do this with a busted charger…
His gaze shifted to the sneakers lying on the floor. The soles had holes big enough to let rain seep in, and the once-black canvas had faded to a sad gray. He'd been too embarrassed to wear them anywhere but work.
Ethan hesitated. One reconstruction per day. He'd already used today's charge. He wouldn't be able to try again until tomorrow.
But the possibilities raced through his mind. If he could upgrade old junk into new, valuable things, he could sell them. Flip them. Maybe even start small, with thrift store finds or broken gadgets people threw away.
For the first time in years, his chest swelled with something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
He glanced toward the living room, where his sister's laughter drifted through the thin walls. She was probably watching cartoons while their mom dozed. Milk and bread sat on the kitchen counter, barely enough to last through the weekend.
This wasn't just about him.
This was about them.
Ethan clenched his fists, determination hardening in his eyes.
"Alright, System," he whispered. "If you're real… then you and me, we're gonna change everything."
The translucent interface pulsed once, almost as if it were listening.
[Next reconstruction available: 23 hours, 12 minutes.]
Ethan leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He didn't know how yet. He didn't know the exact path. But he had a weapon now, a chance no one else in the world had.
Tomorrow, he'd test the sneakers. Then the laptop. And after that? Who knew.
But one thing was certain.
This was only the beginning.