The fluorescent lights of Jefferson High buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting their sickly yellow glow across the hallway where Jayden Martinez sat slumped against his battered locker. His backpack, held together with duct tape and prayers, leaked crumpled homework assignments onto the linoleum floor. The math test he'd failed yesterday peeked out from the mess—a glorious 23% written in red ink that seemed to mock him.
"Hey, Discount Mart!"
Jayden's stomach dropped. Tyler Chen and his crew approached like sharks sensing blood in the water. The nickname had stuck since sophomore year when someone discovered Jayden's sneakers came from a thrift store. Now, as a senior, the humiliation had only calcified into daily routine.
"Heard you're working double shifts at that gas station," Tyler sneered, his designer jacket probably worth more than Jayden's family made in a month. "Maybe you can finally afford some real clothes."
The group erupted in laughter. Jayden pulled his threadbare hoodie tighter, feeling the familiar burn of shame crawl up his neck. He'd been up until 2 AM restocking energy drinks and cleaning bathrooms, just to help his mom pay rent. The exhaustion sat in his bones like lead.
"Leave me alone," Jayden muttered, not looking up.
"What was that?" Tyler cupped his ear theatrically. "Couldn't hear you over the sound of poverty."
More laughter. Jayden closed his eyes and tried to disappear into the cold metal of his locker. Three more months. Just three more months until graduation, then he could escape this nightmare. Maybe community college, if he could scrape together the money. Maybe just more gas station shifts until he died.
The bell rang, and Tyler's group dispersed with final sneers and shoulder shoves. Jayden gathered his scattered papers with trembling hands, stuffing them back into his dying backpack. In the distance, he caught sight of Cindy walking toward her next class, surrounded by her usual entourage of perfectly dressed friends.
Cindy Reeves. Even her name sounded like poetry to him. Golden hair that caught the light just right, a laugh that could make the worst day bearable, and a smile that she'd never once directed his way. She was everything good in this cesspool of a school—student council president, honor roll, heading to Stanford in the fall. She was sunlight, and he was a shadow.
But today felt different. Maybe it was the exhaustion making him reckless, or maybe rock bottom had finally given him nothing left to lose. Jayden found himself walking toward her, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged bird.
"Cindy?" His voice cracked on her name.
She turned, and for a moment—just one beautiful moment—her green eyes met his. "Oh. Hi, Jayden." She glanced at her friends, who were already whispering and giggling behind their hands.
"I... I wanted to tell you something." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I know this might sound crazy, but I really like you. I've liked you for years, actually. I know I'm not much, but I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go to prom with me? I've been saving up, and I think I could rent a decent tux and—"
The laughter started small, just a giggle from one of her friends. But it spread like wildfire until the entire hallway seemed to echo with mockery. Cindy's face cycled through surprise, confusion, and finally settling on cruel amusement.
"You're joking, right?" she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Jayden, you're sweet, but... look at yourself. Look at me. We're from completely different worlds."
"I know, but—"
"No, you don't know." Her voice turned sharp. "Do you think I want to show up to prom with someone who smells like motor oil and discount store cologne? Someone who can't even afford to fix his shoes?" She pointed at his sneakers, where the sole was coming loose and held on with electrical tape.
The hallway had gone quiet, everyone watching the spectacle unfold. Jayden felt like he was drowning in their stares.
"You're a nice guy, Jayden, but you're also a nobody. And I'm not going to ruin the biggest night of my senior year for charity."
The words hit him like physical blows. Around them, phones appeared, recording his humiliation for posterity. Tomorrow, this would be all over social media. The loser who thought he had a chance with Cindy Reeves.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, backing away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
But Cindy had already turned back to her friends, dismissing him completely. Their laughter followed him as he stumbled toward the exit, his vision blurring with tears he refused to let fall.
The rest of the school day passed in a haze of whispers and pointed fingers. By lunch, the video was everywhere. #DiscountMartProm was trending on the school's social media. Jayden ate his free lunch alone in the bathroom, scrolling through comment after comment that eviscerated what little self-worth he had left.
When the final bell rang, he couldn't get to his job fast enough. At least at the gas station, he was invisible. Just another anonymous wage slave pumping gas and restocking chips. The manager, Mr. Patel, was decent enough—he'd even let Jayden study during slow periods, though studying seemed pointless now.
The shift dragged by with unusual slowness. Every time the door chimed, Jayden looked up expecting to see classmates coming to record more humiliation. But it was just the usual mix of truckers, commuters, and late-night energy drink addicts.
He was restocking the beer cooler when he heard the familiar rumble of Jake Reeves' motorcycle outside. Cindy's older brother—built like a linebacker, recently graduated, and with a reputation for violence that made even Tyler Chen think twice. Jayden's blood turned to ice water.
The door chimed. Heavy footsteps approached.
"You."
Jayden turned slowly, beer bottles still clutched in his hands. Jake filled the doorway like a storm cloud, his face twisted with rage.
"You think you can embarrass my sister like that?"
"I didn't mean—"
"Shut up." Jake's voice was deadly quiet. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Cindy's been crying all afternoon because everyone's making jokes about her rejecting the school loser. You made her look bad."
"I'm sorry, I—"
Jake's fist caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. The beer bottles crashed to the floor, shattering into glittering fragments. Jayden gasped for air that wouldn't come.
"Sorry doesn't cut it, you piece of trash."
Another punch, this one to his face. Jayden's head snapped back, and he tasted blood. The security camera in the corner was broken—had been for months. Mr. Patel was in the back office with his headphones on. No one would see. No one would help.
Jake grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him behind the counter, away from the windows. The beating that followed was methodical, brutal. Jake had obviously done this before. Each punch was calculated to cause maximum pain without leaving marks that would be too obvious.
"You stay away from my sister," Jake hissed between blows. "You don't look at her. You don't talk to her. You pretend she doesn't exist. Because if you don't..." Another punch. "I'll make sure you disappear completely."
Jayden curled into a ball, trying to protect his vital organs. His vision went in and out of focus. He could feel ribs cracking, taste blood filling his mouth. This was it. This was how he died—beaten to death behind a gas station counter because he'd dared to dream above his station.
"Please," he whispered through broken lips. "Please stop."
Jake's boot connected with his kidney, sending lightning bolts of agony through his body. "Pathetic. Just like your mom. Yeah, I know about her. Working three jobs, still can't pay rent. Maybe I should visit her next."
Something snapped inside Jayden. Not physically—he was too broken for that. But something deeper. Some final thread of hope or dignity that Jake's words had severed. He wasn't just being beaten. He was being erased. Everything he was, everything his family was, reduced to nothing more than entertainment for people like Jake.
The beating continued for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. Eventually, Jake grew bored with his unconscious punching bag. Jayden heard footsteps moving away, heard the door chime as Jake left. The motorcycle roared to life and faded into the distance.
Jayden lay on the cold linoleum, bleeding and broken. Every breath sent fire through his chest. He could feel consciousness slipping away, and part of him welcomed it. Maybe it would be better to just... let go. To stop fighting a world that had made it clear he didn't belong in it.
Is this really how your story ends?
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Not heard through his ears, but somehow perceived directly in his mind. Jayden's eyes fluttered open, though the store looked the same as before.
Beaten. Broken. Forgotten. Is this the legacy of Jayden Martinez?
"Who..." Jayden tried to speak, but only blood came out.
You know who I am. I am every dream you've been told to abandon. Every ambition you've been taught to forget. Every moment of strength you've been conditioned to suppress. I am what you could be... if you had the will to seize it.
The voice was neither male nor female, neither young nor old. It was possibility itself, speaking in a language older than words.
You have been stepped on, spat upon, dismissed and degraded. But what if I told you that every humiliation has been building toward this moment? What if I told you that your suffering has been an investment, and now it's time to collect your dividends?
Jayden's broken body began to tingle. Not with pain, but with something else. Something that felt like electricity flowing through his veins.
The strong prey upon the weak because they can. They take what they want because no one stops them. They rise to the top because they have the will to climb over others. But what happens when the weak decide to become strong? What happens when the prey becomes the predator?
The tingling intensified. Jayden could feel his cracked ribs beginning to knit together, could taste the blood in his mouth turning from copper to something that tasted like lightning.
I offer you power, Jayden Martinez. Not just strength of body, but mastery over the very forces that have oppressed you. I offer you conquest—the ability to take what you want, when you want it, from anyone who stands in your way.
"What... what do you want from me?" Jayden's voice was stronger now, clearer.
I want nothing from you. I want everything FOR you. Every slight will be repaid. Every humiliation will be reversed. Every door that has been closed will be blown from its hinges. All I ask is that you have the courage to reach out and take what is being offered.
The air in front of Jayden shimmered, and text began to appear, floating in golden letters that seemed to burn themselves into reality:
[CONQUEST SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[USER IDENTIFIED: JAYDEN MARTINEZ]
[EMOTIONAL TRAUMA THRESHOLD: EXCEEDED]
[HUMILIATION INDEX: CRITICAL]
[POWER LEVEL: PATHETIC]
[SYSTEM ACTIVATION AUTHORIZED]
This is your moment of choice, Jayden Martinez. Remain as you are—broken, forgotten, stepped upon—or rise to become something more. Something feared. Something respected. Something... conquering.
Jayden stared at the floating text, his mind reeling. This had to be a hallucination brought on by the beating. A dying brain's final fantasy. But the words pulsed with a reality more solid than the floor beneath him.
[WARNING: SYSTEM ACTIVATION IS IRREVERSIBLE]
[CURRENT LIFE PATH: CERTAIN MEDIOCRITY AND EVENTUAL DEATH IN OBSCURITY]
[CONQUEST PATH: UNLIMITED POTENTIAL WITH CORRESPONDING RESPONSIBILITIES]
[DO YOU ACCEPT THE CONQUEST SYSTEM? Y/N]
The cursor blinked, waiting for his answer. In the distance, he could hear Mr. Patel's footsteps approaching, probably coming to check on the noise. Soon, he'd have to explain the blood, the broken bottles, the injuries. He'd have to face another day of being Jayden the loser, Jayden the nobody, Jayden who got what he deserved.
Or...
With a trembling finger, he reached toward the floating text. The moment his skin made contact with the golden letters, the entire world exploded into light.
[CONQUEST SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[WELCOME, CONQUEROR]
[YOUR ASCENSION BEGINS NOW]