Crypto Lord: The Digital Dominion System

“A loser. That’s what you are, Ethan. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The words rang in Ethan Cross’s ears like a curse he could never escape. His father’s deep commanding voice was filled with disappointment and it seemed to echo even louder than the honking of traffic around him.

Ethan sat on the edge of his rusty bicycle with sweat dripping down his forehead after another twelve-hour delivery shift. His backpack sagged against his back, reeking of stale fast food. His fingers trembled as he clutched his cracked phone screen with his eyes glued to the ever-changing numbers on a cryptocurrency chart.

The green and red candlesticks flickered like tiny heartbeats, each one tugging at his soul as he watched. 

He zoomed in and then zoomed out. He refreshed and refreshed again. His delivery pay barely kept him afloat, but every second he wasn’t pedaling across the city, he was watching those numbers.

Because he had believed that one day those numbers would change his life. 

At home, things were worse. His father, Marcus Cross, once a respected businessman, now retired, carried a bitterness in his heart that cut sharper than any blade.

“You’re twenty-four, still riding that stupid bicycle, chasing fairy tales on a phone screen. Crypto? Stocks? Nonsense! When will you wake up and live in the real world?” Marcus barked across the kitchen table, his fist slammed against the wood.

Ethan clenched his jaw. His mother stayed silent in the corner, pretending to wash dishes, though her trembling hands betrayed her discomfort.

“I’m working, Dad,” Ethan muttered. “I do deliveries during the day and studying charts at night. I’ll find the right coin. One good trade can change everything.”

“Everything?” Marcus sneered, leaning forward. His eyes bore into Ethan’s like daggers. “You already lost everything once, remember? Your so-called big opportunity. You poured ten thousand dollars into that scam coin, and what happened? Your money is gone. You nearly dragged this family into debt!”

The memory burned like fire in Ethan’s chest. He remembered the sleepless nights when he was watching the value of NeoTitan plummet. He had believed every lie from online influencers telling him to “hold.” He had watched his entire savings, the money he’d worked three years for to disappear overnight.

He swallowed hard but refused to look away. “I’ll make it back. I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll prove everyone wrong.”

Marcus laughed in a harsh and bitter way. “Prove me wrong? You can’t even pay rent without begging me for help. Stop living in fantasies, Ethan. You’ll never make it this way. And as I see it, you will die a loser.”

The words stabbed deeper than any betrayal could. Ethan’s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to scream, to fight, but all he could do was bite back the pain and silently vow, ‘One day. One day, I’ll show him.’

That night, Ethan sat alone in his tiny room. The walls were peeling, the mattress sagged, and the faint hum of a broken fan filled the silence. 

Ethan took his little draft he had been working on for days. As he flipped the pages, he wasn't done. He had to finish the work on that idea that night because tomorrow was the seminar. 

‘I hope this gets me what I want.’ He muttered to himself and took a deep breath. 

……….

……

The lecture hall was packed with bright lights, polished podiums, and the buzzing chatter of ambitious students. Ethan Cross adjusted the loose tie at his throat, his palms slick with sweat as he clutched a battered folder filled with pages of charts, diagrams, and ideas that had consumed his life for the past two years.

This was his moment, finally, a chance to prove he wasn’t the loser his father always branded him.

The university’s business seminar wasn’t just some academic gathering. Major investors and entrepreneurs often scouted talent here. If he could convince even one of them that his whitepaper for a decentralized payment system had merit, his future would change forever.

“Relax, man. You got this,” Damien Holt whispered, clapping Ethan on the shoulder. His best friend’s easy grin always seemed to shine with confidence. Damien’s Rolex gleamed under the fluorescent lights, a gift from his wealthy uncle, he had once boasted.

“Yeah,” Ethan muttered, though the knot in his stomach only tightened. He believed in his idea, but he was terrified of being laughed off stage.

When Ethan’s turn came, he stepped onto the platform. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor, and a few students smirked. He ignored them, holding up his papers.

“My name is Ethan Cross,” he began, forcing his voice steady. “And I want to introduce you to the future of money. A system where no bank, no government, no corporation can control how we trade value. A truly decentralized payment system very fast, secure, and built for the people.”

He explained. His words flowed with more passion as he pointed to graphs and blockchain flow diagrams. He described his plan for microtransactions without exorbitant fees, for borderless payments accessible to the poor as much as the rich.

Some in the audience yawned. Others typed on their phones. But Ethan kept going, every word pulled from his burning conviction that this was his way out of mediocrity.

When he finished, silence hung in the air. Then a cough, a chuckle and someone muttered, “Another crypto dreamer.”

But Damien clapped. “Brilliant stuff, bro. Really visionary.” His voice carried, turning a few heads, and Ethan’s heart leapt. At least one person believed in him.

He stepped down, clutching his folder. His girlfriend Clara slipped to his side with her arms folded over her expensive handbag.

“That was… cute,” she said with a tight smile. “But Ethan, honestly? You sounded like a kid pitching a video game. Who’s going to trust you to revolutionize finance? You can’t even pay your rent on time.”

Her words stung sharper than any stranger’s laughter. Ethan forced a smile. “Clara, I’m serious. This can work. If I just get a chance…”

“Chance?” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re twenty-four, Ethan. Most people your age are already getting stable jobs and building their futures. But look at you, You’re chasing fantasy coins like some gambler.”

Ethan clenched his fists but swallowed the retort. He knew she wouldn't understand him after all. 

That night, Ethan sat with his back bent over his desk in his small apartment. He stared at code lines on his cracked laptop screen. His whitepaper lay beside him with different corrections on it.

A notification pinged from his phone. He opened his phone and froze in shock. 

“Breaking: Damien Holt Announces “HoltPay” - A Revolutionary Decentralized Payment System!”

There was Damien, grinning in a slick promo video, explaining word for word the very ideas Ethan had pitched that morning. The diagrams, the system architecture and even the phrasing… everything was his.

Ethan’s chest tightened. His hand trembled as he scrolled through comments.

“Genius idea!”

“HoltPay is the future!”

“Finally, someone with brains in crypto.”

He had over thousands of likes. Investors tagging Damien. Students praised his brilliance.

“NO!” Ethan roared, slamming the phone down. He grabbed his folder, flipping through his pages. Damien had recorded him, he remembered it now. That reassuring pat on the back and the way Damien had held up his phone while clapping. The bastard had stolen everything.

He felt the walls closing in, his lungs straining for breath. The years of sleepless nights, hours spent coding and all the sacrifices were stolen in a single night.

The phone buzzed again. Clara’s name lit the screen.

He answered with a shaky breath. “Clara, Damien, he…”

“Ethan,” she cut him off, her tone sharper than ever. “Don’t start. Everyone’s talking about HoltPay. It’s brilliant. This is what I mean, Damien is going places, and you’re just… stuck.”

His gut twisted. “It was my idea!” he snapped. “He stole everything! You know how long I’ve worked on this!”

But Clara sighed. “Ideas are worthless if you don’t execute, Ethan. Damien did, and you didn’t. That’s the difference between losers and winners.”

The line went dead.

Ethan dropped the phone. His hands covered his face, muffling the ragged sobs tearing from his chest.

Two days later, posters of HoltPay were plastered across the university halls. Damien walked through the corridors, professors congratulating him and girls flocking to his side.

Ethan trudged past in silence. Every cheer for Damien cutting him deeper.

When Damien spotted him, he grinned, throwing an arm around Ethan like nothing was wrong. “Hey, buddy! No hard feelings, yeah? You’re the one who inspired me. Think of it like… we’re partners in spirit.”

Ethan shoved his arm off, glaring at him with eyes that burned. “You stole my life’s work.”

Damien only smirked, leaning close so only Ethan could hear. “The world doesn’t care about nobodies, Ethan. You had your shot and you blew it. Remember that.”

Laughter erupted as Damien walked away, surrounded by admirers.

Ethan stood frozen in the corridor with his fists trembling and nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. His dreams were gone right in his face. His friend has betrayed him.  His girlfriend already doubted him. 

But as he staggered out into the cold night air, his mind whispered through the haze of pain,

‘No. This isn’t the end. If they want to bury me, I’ll claw my way out. If Damien stole my dream, I’ll build one ten times greater. I’ll prove them wrong, all of them.’