Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 59: The Setup

Jaylen opened his eyes only to see his screen glowing like a flare in the dark.

Zova Red Clain known as the avant-garde fire goddess of the stage. She was also known for wielding flame as if she were born of it. 

She had sent him a direct invitation.

“My next act is to co-headline on The Furnace Foundry. Let’s burn the world together.”

The Furnace Foundry was an abandoned steelworks. It is now fitted into a brilliant performance arena where the singer's display  gave the stage the show. To the outside world, this was a career-defining offer. It was the kind that could cement Jaylen as not just a star but a legend.

But on his HUD, Zee’s system alert blinked red,

 “Warning: Probability of sabotage is 65%. Do you accept the Quest?”

Jaylen’s thumb hovered across the screen. Every one of his instincts screamed that it was a trap. Still, he pressed Accept.

“Let them try, I’ll walk through fire if I have to.” He muttered. 

The foundry buzzed with songs when Jaylen arrived. The tall steel beams loomed and the new scaffolds carried rows of flamethrowers, gas canisters, and rigged singer's drones. The air already reeked of something pressing.

Zova descended from a gantry above. She was dressed in a red bodysuit that glowed like a glass. Her smile dripped honey but could also cut a glass through. 

“Jaylen Cruz,” she purred. “Together we will burn down the old guard and rise from the ashes. Don’t worry, the fire loves me. It might not love you.” She smiled at the tease.

Marcus, at Jaylen’s shoulder, whispered, “This stage seems like a deathtrap. I don't think it's advised to listen to her.”

Jaylen’s jaw tightened. “And that’s why we own it. If I walk away, I will look weak. If I stand in it, I am certain they can't break me.” He fastened his eyes. 

The rehearsal finally began. 

Jaylen’s vocals echoed through the vast depths of the arena while flamethrower drones capture on every beat. His voice moved at an exact speed, as if calculated.  Every note synced with explosions. Yet he noticed the details, the hiss of gas lines was louder than they should be and certain rigs set too close to his marks.

Zova twirled effortlessly on the stage, laughing hysterically. “Spectacle is survival, darling. Just a single blink, and you are forgotten.”

Still, unease gnawed at him.

By nightfall, the Furnace Foundry exploded with live songs. Tens of thousands filled the arena, while millions tuned into livestreams labeled “The Hottest Show of the Decade.” Drones hovered above the audience, transmitting every angle.

The performance opened with Zova glamouring herself in a circle of flames. She rose like a phoenix. When Jaylen entered, his voice cut through the fire like a blade of raw energy. The crowd roared, the cameras zoomed and the heat was suffocating.

Then it happened.

On the second verse, a pyro rig detonated prematurely. Fire surged across the stage. It was wild and uncontrolled. Another explosion followed, sending steel beams crashing downward. Jaylen moved aside as the molten sparks rained over him.

“Holy shit!” someone screamed in the crowd.

“Jaylen Cruz is burning alive on live TV!” A social media headline already flooded that into the internet feed.

Zova clutched her chest in feigned horror. But Jaylen saw it. The way she  smirked before she masked it with wide-eyed innocence.

‘This wasn’t an accident.’ He muttered to himself.

The stage was collapsing, but Jaylen refused to yield to the external pressure.  His system pinged in, “System Boost: Reflex +10. Rhythm Lock Active.”

Every near-death moment became choreography. He dodged falling beams with the sharp move of a dancer. He sidestepped sheets of fire in time with the beat. His voice never cracked. The raw fury twisted into his lyrics.

The crowd lost their minds. They thought it was all part of the act. They thought the death defying performance was staged for their amusement.  No one had thought, they wanted to eliminate Jaylen afterall.

Social feeds exploded with different hashtags and clips of Jaylen striding through fire like a man possessed. #Fireborn, #CrossTheInferno, 

Marcus shouted from the wings, “Jaylen, get off the stage!” His eyes was tensed, his stomach turned. 'What stunt is he trying to pull?' He muttered with his eyes wide. 

But Jaylen only sang louder. His eyes locked on Zova. He dodged the beams and made it into music. Every movement of fire becomes percussion, and every crash of steel was part of his song. His refusal to break character turned a sabotage into the most shocking show of his career.

Zova was shocked. She didn't expect that move at all.

Backstage, Toni was already tearing apart equipment. His hands blackened with soot. She found severed safety fuse and wires deliberately crossed. Her voice broke over the comms, “This wasn’t a malfunction. Someone set you up.”

The firestorm peaked. A support gantry snapped overhead, tumbling toward Jaylen like a guillotine. At the last possible second, he slid under, his mic was still in his hand. His voice broke into a scream that blended with the explosion.

The audience erupted. They thought he was immortal.

Zova twirled through her own flame circle. Her lips curled into a secret smile. “Burn, darling. Burn bright enough to disappear.”

But Jaylen met her gaze through the smoke. He mouthed one word. “Caught.”

As the last flames died and the arena lights went down, Zee’s alert pinged in Jaylen’s ear.

 “Safety cam footage secured. Multiple sabotage points identified. Evidence traces directly to Zova’s rigging. Cross-referenced history, she’s done this before - injured rivals to steal their spotlight.”

Jaylen’s eyes cut through the smoke, locking on Zova’s painted grin. The crowd still cheered, ignorant of the truth.

He stepped closer. His voice was very low but searing, “You wanted me to burn on the stage? Now it’s your turn.”

 Zova’s smirk faltered as Jaylen’s shadow loomed across the firelit stage.