THE ANOMALY: RISE OF A BILLIONAIRE

4

The sun had just risen when Jake woke up. Golden light streamed through the tall glass windows of Damian’s penthouse, illuminating the Persian carpet and the luxurious leather sofa.

Jake jolted, as if his body still wasn’t used to sleeping somewhere this comfortable. A savory aroma teased his nose.

He turned toward the dining room and saw Damian already standing in front of a long table loaded with food: roasted meat, warm bread, fresh fruit, imported cheese—even coffee whose sharp scent filled the room.

“Wake up, Jake,” Damian said with a faint smile. “Today, you’re going to do something that will change your life.”

Jake rubbed his eyes, staring at the table hesitantly. “This… is for me?”

“Of course. A full stomach, a clear mind.” Damian pushed a plate toward him. “Eat. You’ll need the strength.”

Jake sat down awkwardly, his hand trembling as he reached for bread. “I usually just eat instant noodles,” he muttered.

Damian chuckled. “That was before. Now you’re in a different world. A world where instant noodles are nothing but a poor man’s memory.”

Jake lowered his head, taking a bite of roast meat. The taste was so rich it almost brought tears to his eyes. “Well, my stomach’s not used to this kind of food.”

“Get used to it,” Damian said, patting his shoulder. “If you succeed, this will be your breakfast every day.”

After breakfast, Damian led Jake into his study. A wall of glass revealed Ashborne still cloaked in morning fog. On the desk, a digital map glowed. Red and blue lines formed a complicated pattern: patrol routes, gates, camera points.

“This is your battlefield,” Damian said, pointing at the screen. “I’ll explain how their system works.”

Jake looked at him with unease. “The thing I’m most worried about is getting caught. I mean, if I’m shot on sight, fine. But if I’m tortured… that’s disgusting.”

Damian smirked. “You won’t get caught. I’ve arranged a team. They’ll disable the cameras, knock out the guards with colorless gas. But all of it means nothing without you. The vault can only be opened with biometrics. You have to get close to Colonel Reeves and steal his fingerprint.”

Jake frowned. “Colonel Reeves…”

“Yes. Simple, isn’t it?”

“Remember, Jake—you can’t back out. You already took the hundred grand.”

Damian’s hand pressed on Jake’s shoulder, his smile more threat than comfort. Jake just nodded in silence.

Ten hours later, they arrived at the city’s outskirts harbor. A battered truck with Food Supply painted on its side waited, the paint chipped but the engine humming smoothly. Two men sat in the cab while another smoked beside the tire.

“This your team?” Jake asked.

“That’s right.” Damian introduced them quickly. “Connor, the driver. Mason, the tech guy. And over there—Everett. You’ve met.”

Everett sneered. “So this kid is really doing it? Look at him. Still shabby, like some bum who wandered in.”

“Enough,” Damian cut him off. “We’re short on time.” He stared hard at Jake. “Remember—don’t overdo it. Stay quiet, get in, do what you need, get out. That’s it.”

Jake took a deep breath and climbed into the back of the truck. Crates of vegetables were stacked high, the pungent smell of onions stinging his nose. The engine roared, wheels rolling over rough pavement.

First checkpoint. The truck slowed. A guard’s voice barked, checking the driver’s ID. Jake held his breath inside. A drone buzzed overhead.

A sensor light swept across the back. For a split second, a red beam cut through the crates. Jake shut his eyes—but no alarm went off. The drone turned and drifted away. The system didn’t detect him. He was like a shadow that didn’t exist.

Second checkpoint. The guards were stricter, knocking on the truck’s side. “Open it!”

Connor cracked the door. Two soldiers peeked inside. All they saw were vegetable crates. No Jake.

In reality, Jake crouched only a breath away, staring at them. Yet no sensor, no eye caught him. The soldiers shut the door. The truck rolled forward.

Jake smirked. “They’re blind,” he whispered.

The truck stopped at the warehouse area of the base. Jake slipped out, weaving between containers. Damian’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “Head south. Reeves is in the barracks.”

Jake moved swiftly, his steps light, almost soundless. In the corner, Mason switched on a portable device.

In an instant, security cameras went dark. Corridor lights flickered dim. Thin vapor leaked from the vents—colorless, odorless knockout gas. One by one, soldiers staggered and collapsed.

Jake’s eyes widened. “You… drugged them all?”

Damian’s voice was flat. “I promised you a smooth path, didn’t I?”

Swallowing hard, Jake pushed forward.

Just as Damian described, Colonel Reeves was half-drunk inside the barracks, bottle in hand. Jake crept up and jabbed a small needle into his arm. The colonel slumped. Jake pressed his finger against a portable scanner. A beep sounded—fingerprint recorded.

“Good,” Damian said. “Now open the vault in the main hangar.”

Jake carried the device to a massive steel door. The fingerprint was scanned. A green light blinked. The door groaned open, echoing through the hangar.

Jake stepped inside.

The hangar was enormous, flooded with blinding white light. Rows of metal racks stood filled with military crates. At the center, a glass container glowed with blue light. Inside, a long metallic object gleamed—Vanguard-7. Its silver surface reflected the light like a weapon from the future.

Jake froze. His chest pounded. “God…” he whispered. “It’s real?”

Damian’s chuckle came through the earpiece. “Welcome to the future, Jake. That’s the thing that will bring the world to its knees.”

Jake stepped closer, his hands trembling, his eyes locked on the weapon’s gleam.