Chapter Five — A Different Kind of Quest
The final bell rang and the floodgates opened. Germantown High poured out into the street like a river — kids laughing, pushing, flexing for whoever was watching.
But it didn't take long for the lines to show.
On one side, the in-crowd strutted toward the curb where shiny cars waited. Black SUVs, luxury sedans, even a convertible idling with the top down. Drivers in suits held doors open like these were movie stars, not teenagers.
John Smalls walked slow, chain bouncing against his bomber jacket, climbing into the back of a Cadillac Escalade like he owned it. Rebecca slid in after him, sunglasses flashing even though the sun was barely out. Pretty Rich hopped into a white BMW, music already blasting before the door closed. Marly and Smooda laughed loud as they piled into another car, sneakers spotless against the pavement.
And then there was us.
Me, Malik, and Haneef. Backpacks slung low, sneakers scuffed, walking. No car waiting. No driver. Just cracked sidewalks, the sound of our own footsteps, and the long walk back to our side of the neighborhood.
"Man," Malik muttered, shaking his head as a shiny Lexus rolled past, "they don't even know what it's like to be tired after school. Car right there, door opened for 'em. Whole different life."
Haneef scoffed. "Different world. They rich, we not. Ain't no point stressing what we can't change."
I didn't say anything, just shoved my hands in my pockets and kept walking. But inside, I was burning.
We weren't the same. Not even close.
I could still hear their laughter echoing from class earlier, still feel the sting of them bragging about pods that cost more than our rent for a year. And I thought about the future — how in six months, that divide would only get bigger once The Symposium: Arc of Legends merged with reality.
Unless I made my move.
---
We cut through the side streets, passing boarded-up rowhomes and corner stores with bars over the windows. Malik kicked a bottle down the sidewalk, sending it clattering ahead of us.
"You believe that?" he said finally, breaking the silence. "Twenty thousand for a pod. That's insane. Who even pays that?"
"Them," Haneef answered flatly. "Always them. They got money for anything. Us? We lucky that café even letting broke kids like us play."
Malik chuckled. "Yeah, but watch. We still gonna grind. Pod or no pod, I'm rolling assassin. Haneef's gonna play healer, keep me alive, and Nasir here…" He slapped my shoulder. "Still on that basic swordsman nonsense."
I smirked but kept quiet. They didn't understand yet. How could they?
I wasn't thinking about classes or builds. I was thinking about money.
Not the kind of money that bought sneakers or snacks after school. Real money. The kind that could move my parents out of the ghetto, put us in a safe house, and set me up to rule both the game and the streets.
The rich kids had family wealth, companies, mayors in their pockets. Me? I had memory. I had knowledge of the future.
And sometimes, that was worth more than money.
---
We turned a corner by the bodega. The old TV in the window was showing the local news, sound muffled but the scrolling banner clear as day.
"TONIGHT'S LOTTERY DRAWING — JACKPOT HITS $1 MILLION."
My feet stopped moving.
Malik glanced back. "Yo, why you frozen?"
I didn't answer right away. My chest felt tight.
That headline. I remembered it. In my past life, someone in Philly hit the jackpot on this exact night. I'd brushed it off as just another lucky break for somebody else.
But now?
Now I knew better. I knew the numbers.
If I played them today… it wouldn't be some stranger walking off with that money. It would be me.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move again before Malik or Haneef got suspicious.
"Yeah, I'm good," I muttered. "Just thinking."
But inside my head, the gears were turning fast.
One million dollars. Enough to get my parents out. Enough to buy a pod. Enough to give me breathing room before the game flipped the whole world on its head.
It felt unreal. Like fate had dropped my first quest right in front of me.
---
Malik kept talking about how he was gonna dual-wield daggers and slice up bosses. Haneef joked about letting him die on purpose just to watch him rage. Their voices felt far away.
I couldn't stop replaying the news banner in my mind. Couldn't stop imagining what that ticket would feel like in my hand.
I'd played The Symposium before. I knew about raids, loot drops, grinding monsters for XP. But this?
This was different. This was the real world. And the monster in front of me wasn't some goblin in a dungeon. It was poverty.
The dungeon wasn't some cave or castle. It was a corner store with a lottery machine.
And the loot? A million-dollar jackpot.
---
We reached my block, where the houses leaned against each other like tired men, paint peeling, windows cracked. Malik and Haneef split off, heading toward their own streets.
"Aight, see you tomorrow, bro," Malik called.
"Don't dream too hard about that café," Haneef added. "We still poor in the morning."
They laughed, but I didn't. I just raised a hand in goodbye, my mind already elsewhere.
I stood on the sidewalk a moment longer, staring down the street at the corner store glowing in the distance. The TV in my head played the headline again and again.
Tonight's drawing. Jackpot: one million.
This was it. My first move. My first real play in this new life.
Not in the game. Not yet.
Here. In the real world.
I tightened my backpack straps and started walking toward the store, heart hammering in my chest.
Time to roll the dice.