The Formidable System: Alex Cole Secret Heir

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

 

 By the time Ethan returned to his flat, the city sky was bleeding into dusk. The last streaks of amber and violet stretched across the horizon like bruises, fading into the encroaching dark. Streetlamps flickered to life one by one, their pale orange halos casting weak circles against cracked sidewalks. The air was cool, damp with the smell of rain that hadn’t yet fallen.

 Ethan’s steps were lighter than they had been in months. His shoes scuffed the uneven pavement, but for once, he didn’t feel crushed beneath the weight of failure. There was something in his pocket that hadn’t come from pity or scraps.

 

 A hundred pounds.

 It wasn’t wealth, not by any measure, but it was his. Earned through his own hands, his own skill. Not charity. Not leftovers. For once, he felt more than the boy people mocked.

 Inside his flat, the dim corridor creaked with every step. His door resisted as always, groaning on rusty hinges before giving way. The smell of his own space greeted him. stale air, dust, and the faint trace of solder from his tools. He closed the door behind him, leaned against it for a long second, then crossed to the rickety table at the center of the small room.

 The notes landed with a soft slap on the wood. Ethan stared at them as though they might vanish if he blinked too long. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his shoulders trembling faintly from the release of a pressure he hadn’t realized he was holding.

 “Is this really happening?” he whispered, voice almost fragile.

 The glowing interface of the System floated faintly in his mind’s eye, its letters shimmering with a detached coldness, as though mocking the question. The reality of it, that unseen presence guiding and watching him made his stomach knot with unease.

 He almost reached for the notes again, just to reassure himself they were real, when a knock shattered the quiet. Sharp. Deliberate. Jonathan Returns.

 Ethan stiffened instantly, a chill sliding down his back. He hadn’t told anyone where he lived. He barely spoke to neighbors, kept to himself, invisible in the city’s machinery. So who?

 The knock came again. Firm. Patient.

Slowly, he moved to the door, every creak of the floorboard beneath his feet echoing like thunder. He turned the handle cautiously and pulled it open.

 Jonathan Hale stood there, immaculate as ever. His suit was crisp, shoes polished, not a hair out of place. He looked absurdly out of sync with the peeling wallpaper of the hallway. A faint smile tugged his lips, though his eyes remained sharp, measuring.

 “I see you’ve tested it,” Jonathan said, stepping inside uninvited, moving with the confidence of someone who had long ago stopped asking permission. His gaze swept the room, landed on the notes on the table, and lingered with quiet satisfaction. “And succeeded.”

 Ethan frowned. “You were… watching me?”

Jonathan shrugged as though the idea amused him. “Not directly. But the System reports progress. Your grandfather built it that way. It’s designed to monitor, guide, and…when necessary… judge.”

 The last word carried weight. Ethan’s throat tightened. “Judge?”

 Jonathan pulled out the creaky chair opposite him and sat, folding his hands neatly on the table. “Every action you take will have weight, Ethan. The System isn’t a toy. Each task prepares you for something greater. But failure…” He paused deliberately, letting the word hang like smoke. “Failure has consequences.”

 The words sank like stones in Ethan’s gut. The hundred pounds suddenly felt less like triumph and more like a fragile illusion, one mistake away from crumbling.

 “Why me?” Ethan blurted. His voice cracked under the weight of everything pressing on him. “Why not someone trained? Someone strong? I’m just a man who fixes laptops in cafés. I don’t belong in this world of empires and legacies.”

 Jonathan’s gaze hardened, no sympathy in it. “Do you think Alexander Cole was born ready? He, too, was mocked once. Broken. But he learned that humiliation is the forge of power. You felt it at the banquet, didn’t you? That sting of laughter, the weight of rejection?”

 Ethan swallowed hard. The memory was raw, unhealed. He could still hear Lily’s laughter, sharp as broken glass, the way her eyes had glittered with triumph as she humiliated him before everyone. His chest constricted at the thought.

 

 Jonathan leaned forward, his voice lowering but gaining intensity. “That pain is your weapon. But only if you wield it. Otherwise, it will consume you.”

 Ethan turned away, staring at the cracked plaster of the wall. His chest felt tight, his heart racing. He wanted to believe Jonathan, wanted to believe he wasn’t just a joke in someone else’s story. But a part of him whispered that it was madness, a fantasy built on shadows.

 Jonathan’s tone shifted again, low and urgent. “Ethan, you must understand. Inheriting the Cole legacy isn’t just about wealth. Alexander had rivals. Enemies. Many of them believed the bloodline ended with him. If they learn you exist…”

 He let the silence stretch, the unspoken threat heavier than words.

 Ethan felt a chill crawl down his spine. “They’d come after me?”

 “They already are.” Jonathan’s eyes flicked toward the window, as if sensing something beyond the glass. His posture stiffened ever so slightly. “The moment you used the System, subtle signals were triggered. It announced to certain… watchers… that a successor lives."

 

 Ethan’s hands trembled as they clenched in his lap. “You mean someone out there knows about me?”

 Jonathan’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “Not yet. But soon. Which is why we cannot waste time.”

 Jonathan rose from the chair, his presence filling the small room like an oncoming storm. His voice carried the weight of command. “You have two paths, Ethan. Ignore the System, go back to scraping by, waiting for the world to crush you again. Or embrace it, train, grow, and claim what is rightfully yours.”

 Ethan stared at the notes on the table. A hundred pounds. Proof that the System wasn’t fantasy. Proof that he wasn’t worthless. His chest heaved with the conflict between fear and longing.

 But the thought of enemies, of shadows already moving toward him, made his skin prickle with unease. The safety of anonymity had been stripped from him.

 Jonathan’s voice cut through his turmoil, sharp and commanding. “Decide quickly. Because the world will not wait for you to be ready.”

 As Jonathan moved toward the door, Ethan’s watch ticked louder on his wrist, the sound magnified until it filled the silence. The System pulsed with a new notification:

 New Mission Available: Strengthen Yourself. Learn a skill that increases survival odds. 

 Time Limit: 48 hours.

 Ethan’s breath caught. His mind spun with possibilities. Combat, negotiation, strategy. All felt foreign, impossible. He imagined himself in each role and faltered. Yet deep inside, beneath the fear, a spark flared.

 Maybe humiliation wasn’t the end of his story. Maybe it was the beginning.

 

 Jonathan’s hand touched the door handle when Ethan whispered, almost to himself, “I’ll try.”

 Jonathan paused, the faintest hint of warmth flickering in his eyes. It was rare, almost human. “Good. Because the world has already noticed you. And some of its shadows are not patient.”

 The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Ethan alone once more.

 The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same. The ticking of his watch echoed louder than before, each second pressing against him. The glow of the System lingered faintly in his vision, a reminder that destiny was no longer an abstract idea. it was a weight pressing harder than ever.

 And for the first time, Ethan realized there would be no going back.