The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my body hated me.
My shoulders were stiff, my thighs felt as though someone had spent the night hammering them with a mallet, and even turning my neck made muscles I didn’t know existed complain.
I remained on my back for several seconds, staring at the ceiling and wondering if getting out of bed was really necessary.
Unfortunately, hunger eventually made the decision for me.
I pushed myself upright and immediately regretted it.
A sharp ache traveled from my ribs toward my side, forcing me to stop halfway through the movement.
I sat there, breathing slowly until the discomfort faded, then carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
“So this is what training feels like.”
The thought almost made me laugh.
I’d spent years dealing with much worse physical exhaustion.
Long hours in laboratories, sleepless nights working on machines, military exercises, and eventually the brutal reality of war had taught me what exhaustion really meant.
None of that, however, had prepared me for discovering that a proper martial arts session could make getting out of bed feel like an engineering project.
Once I was standing, I walked around the room for a few minutes until the stiffness became tolerable.
My movements gradually loosened, but the soreness remained a useful reminder of yesterday’s lesson.
Aetheris hadn’t failed me.
I had.
The bracelet could increase my strength and agility, sharpen my perception, and allow me to manipulate my subjective sense of time when I concentrated.
Those abilities gave me an advantage that an ordinary person could never hope to match, but they didn’t magically give me the instincts of someone who had spent years mastering martial arts.
Marcus had exposed that weakness.
I could react faster than an ordinary person.
I could hit harder.
I could perceive movements that would normally be difficult to follow.
But knowing what an opponent was doing wasn’t the same as knowing how to respond properly, and having enhanced strength didn’t mean my body was conditioned to withstand everything I could force it to do.
Technique was different.
Experience was different.
My body needed to know what to do before my mind had to consciously tell it.
That meant there was only one solution.
I needed training.
Real training.
Aetheris could be part of that training, but it couldn’t become a crutch.
After breakfast, I sat in front of my second-hand laptop and opened the spreadsheet I had been using to track my finances and various experiments.
The machine was hardly impressive, but it was more than enough for what I needed.
I created a new section and labeled it “Physical Conditioning”, then began entering the measurements I could reasonably track without proper equipment.
Running time, push-ups, squats, grip strength, reaction time, balance, and recovery would give me a baseline.
Some of the measurements would be crude, but having consistent numbers was still better than relying on vague impressions.
I started with push-ups.
Twenty repetitions.
The first ten were easy enough.
By fifteen, the muscles in my arms had begun to burn, and by eighteen, I could feel the slight tremor that came with pushing them toward their current limit.
I completed twenty, lowered myself to the floor, and recorded the result.
Then I activated Aetheris.
The familiar sensation spread through my body.
My awareness sharpened, my muscles seemed to respond more efficiently, and the fatigue that had been building only moments earlier became much easier to ignore.
I repeated the test.
Twenty became thirty.
Thirty became forty.
At forty-five, I stopped.
I could have continued, but the strain beneath the amplification was becoming increasingly obvious.
My muscles were working harder than they were accustomed to, and I had no intention of discovering exactly where the boundary between enhanced performance and injury was.
I deactivated Aetheris and sat on the floor for a moment, breathing steadily.
The numbers told me what I needed to know.
The bracelet had significantly increased my output, but it hadn’t eliminated fatigue.
If anything, the experiment had made the limitation more obvious.
Aetheris could push my body beyond its ordinary capabilities, but my body still had to bear the consequences.
I entered the results into the laptop and studied them.
“An amplifier still needs something worth amplifying.”
That was probably the simplest way to describe it.
Aetheris could give me an advantage, but it couldn’t replace years of conditioning.
If I wanted to use it properly, I needed to build the foundation beneath it.
I added physical training to my daily schedule and saved the file.
A few minutes later, voices drifted through the house.
One belonged to my mother.
The other was familiar.
I smiled when I recognized it.
Rosalie had gradually become a regular visitor to our house over the past few weeks.
At first, there had always been an obvious reason for her visits.
She would return a book, ask about an assignment, or walk with me after school before stopping by for a while.
Those excuses had slowly become less important.
Sometimes she came over to study.
Other times she helped my mother with small things around the house while waiting for me.
There were even days when she seemed to have no particular reason for coming over at all.
She would simply sit with me, talk about school, complain about something that happened during class, or ask what I was working on.
My family had naturally noticed.
My mother seemed particularly amused whenever Rosalie arrived, although she was kind enough not to tease me too much.
Edmund, on the other hand, had no such restraint.
Whenever he saw the two of us together, he would give me that irritating grin before finding an excuse to leave the room.
I’d learned to ignore him.
Today appeared to be another one of those visits.
A moment later, Rosalie appeared at my doorway.
She stopped as soon as she saw me and looked me over from head to toe.
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re walking funny.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I think you’re imagining things.”
She stepped farther into the room and studied me with the same expression my mother sometimes used when she knew I was hiding something.
“Does this hurt?”
Before I could answer, she gently pressed a finger against my shoulder.
I flinched.
Her expression immediately changed into a satisfied smile.
“Aha.”
“I wasn’t prepared.”
“Then how about this?”
She poked my arm.
I pulled away with a grimace.
“Rosalie.”
She laughed.
“You are hurt.”
“It’s just muscle soreness.”
“What did you do?”
“Exercise.”
She stared at me for several seconds.
“You exercised until you could barely walk?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds unhealthy.”
“Because it is.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
“You’d better be.”
“I will be.”
She crossed her arms and gave me a doubtful look.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Her expression made it clear she didn’t believe me.
Neither did I.
Her attention eventually shifted toward the laptop.
“What are you working on?”
“Tracking my training.”
She leaned closer to see the spreadsheet.
“You actually wrote all of this down?”
“It makes it easier to measure progress.”
“You make everything sound like a science experiment.”
“It usually is.”
She shook her head, smiling.
“You’re strange.”
“I’ve been told.”
We continued talking for a while before she eventually left the room.
I waited until I heard her talking with my mother again before turning my attention back to the laptop.
The physical conditioning spreadsheet remained open in one corner of the screen.
Beside it was another file labeled Finance.
I opened it.
The numbers were no longer small enough to ignore.
My tutoring income was growing steadily, while the battery design deal with Mr.
Villareal had completely changed the scale of my available capital.
I had already separated money for my family’s needs, emergencies, investments, research, and the future laboratory I intended to build.
The problem wasn’t making money anymore.
The problem was managing everything while still having enough time to actually build what I wanted.
I looked through the different allocations on the screen.
Family.
Research.
Emergency.
Investment.
Future laboratory.
Each had a purpose.
But there was only one of me.
I could handle physics, engineering, technology, training, and investments for now, but that wouldn’t remain practical forever.
The more money I accumulated and the more projects I started, the more time I would have to spend keeping track of things that weren’t directly related to research.
Eventually, managing everything myself would become a weakness.
I needed someone who understood money.
More importantly, I needed someone I could trust.
One name immediately came to mind.
Adrian Navarro.
I stared at the name for a while.
In my previous life, Adrian had become one of the few people I trusted enough to put my finances in his hands.
He wasn’t someone who blindly followed whatever I said.
He questioned numbers, challenged decisions, and wasn’t afraid to tell me when I was making a mistake.
That was exactly the kind of person I needed.
There was only one problem.
The Adrian I remembered didn’t exist yet.
He was around twenty now, and unlike me, he had no reason whatsoever to know who I was.
I picked up my cellphone.
Finding his number took longer than I expected.
Information that would have been trivial to locate years later was much harder to find now, but eventually I managed to get a contact number through an old connection.
I stared at the screen for several seconds before pressing the call button.
The phone rang three times before someone answered.
“Hello?”
The voice was younger than the one I remembered, but there was something familiar about it.
“Is this Adrian Navarro?”
“Yeah.
Who’s this?”
“My name is Rafael Quintero.”
There was a brief pause.
“Do I know you?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to confuse him.
“Then how did you get my number?”
“I asked around.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to talk to you about an investment.”
A short laugh came through the speaker.
It wasn’t loud or mocking.
It sounded more like the reaction of someone who had just heard something so strange that he didn’t know how else to respond.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
The line went silent.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“You called me because you want to talk about investing?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re fourteen.”
“You already mentioned that.”
“Because it matters.”
“I suppose it does.”
He sighed.
“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but if this is some kind of prank—”
“It’s not.”
I opened another file on the laptop.
There was one company I had been waiting to act on.
A company that looked unimpressive at the moment, one that most investors had little reason to care about.
That was going to change.
I gave Adrian the company’s name.
There was a longer pause this time.
“You want to invest in them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They’re going to rise.”
“That’s your reason?”
“Yes.”
Adrian laughed again.
“Rafael, I don’t know who you are, but that company is garbage.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you telling me to invest in it?”
“Because its current condition isn’t going to last.”
Adrian remained silent for a moment before asking, “How much are you planning to put into this?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is if you’re asking me about it.”
“I’ll provide the money.”
That caught him off guard.
“Then what exactly do you want from me?”
“I want you to follow my instructions.”
He laughed again, although this time there was more disbelief than amusement in his voice.
“You really are serious.”
“Completely.”
“You’re asking me to follow the investment decisions of a fourteen-year-old.”
“Yes.”
“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Probably.” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“And you’re still doing it.”
“Yes.”
The silence that followed was different from the earlier ones.
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
He was thinking.
Finally, he asked, “What happens if you’re wrong?”
“I lose the money.”
“And me?”
“You lose nothing.”
He didn’t respond immediately.
I continued before he could misunderstand the arrangement.
“If I’m right, you receive a percentage of the profit.”
“How much?”
“Twenty percent.”
That got his attention.
“Twenty?”
“Of the profit.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need someone who simply agrees with me.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“I need someone who can handle what comes next.”
Adrian remained quiet.
After several seconds, he said, “You don’t even know me.”
I looked at his name on the screen.
“Not yet.”
Another silence followed.
Then he gave a quiet laugh.
“You’re a strange kid.”
“I’ve been told.”
“So what exactly do you expect me to do?”
“Help me execute the investment.
Keep track of the numbers and make sure everything is handled properly.”
“And you’re certain this company will rise?”
“Yes.”
“How certain?”
I looked at the company name on my screen.
“Certain enough to put my money behind it.”
That seemed to settle something in him.
“Fine.”
I raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see me.
“Fine?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
“But I’m telling you now, I still think this company is garbage.”
“That’s fine.”
“You don’t care?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I already know what’s going to happen.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
For a moment, I wondered if I’d said too much.
Adrian didn’t seem to notice.
“All right, Rafael.
Send me the details.”
“I will.”
The call ended.
I placed the cellphone beside the laptop and stared at it for a moment.
Adrian Navarro.
Twenty years old.
A stranger in this timeline.
But perhaps not for long.
I transferred the money and completed the investment.
Then I waited.
The first day passed without anything happening.
The second wasn’t much different, and by the third day, Adrian had already sent me a message.
Adrian: Still nothing.
I looked at the message and smiled before typing my response.
Me: Be patient.
A few hours later, another message arrived.
Adrian: I told you.
Garbage.
I chuckled.
Me: Give it time.
The next morning, I checked the company again.
The price had barely moved.
Adrian was right about one thing.
For now, it still looked like garbage.
I closed the application and continued with my day.
I wasn’t worried.
I knew what was coming.
Several days later, I was sitting in front of my laptop when a notification appeared on the screen.
I almost ignored it.
Then another notification appeared.
Then another.
I opened the financial page.
The company’s price had begun moving.
Not dramatically, but enough to catch my attention.
I leaned closer to the screen and refreshed the page.
The numbers changed again.
A news notification appeared beside the chart.
I clicked it.
My eyes moved across the headline.
A major contract had been announced.
Exactly when I remembered it happening.
The market reacted almost immediately.
The price jumped.
Then it jumped again.
I watched the numbers climb while another notification appeared on my phone.
Then the phone began vibrating against the desk.
I looked at the screen.
Adrian Navarro.
I answered.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then I heard him take a slow breath.
“Rafael.”
“Yes?”
“How did you know?”
I looked at the rapidly climbing numbers on my laptop.
A small smile formed on my face.
I had been waiting for this moment.
But before I could answer, Adrian spoke again, his voice quieter this time.
“Who exactly are you?”