2025-02-01 08:57:10Jack was still in a state of disbelief and amazement. He didn't know if he was going crazy, or if it was all a very well-structured joke by his enemies, the Waltons. But the money was there in his bank account, and he could use it whenever he wanted.
He returned home after getting out of jail, and couldn't stop looking at the screen of his phone. He already had enough money to pay off the debt for the ring, and also enough to quit that poorly-paid job Don Vito had offered him.
He slowly opened the door without noticing the big surprise that was waiting for him right in the living room of his house.
"Surprise!" his parents shouted in unison.
Jack almost fell to the floor from the shock. His heart raced, and his breathing became rapid in a matter of seconds.
His mother was holding a birthday cake with a rather eye-catching candle, while his father clapped excitedly.
"How could I have forgotten this?" Jack slapped his forehead with his palm.
He couldn't believe he had forgotten his own birthday. However, he had a good reason for doing so.
"Welcome to the adult world!" his father shouted, arms stretched out, smiling with joy.
Jack smiled sideways and shrugged before being embraced by his father.
"Is something wrong?" his mother asked, placing the cake on the table.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Jack's father commented, noticing his son's expression.
"Don't worry. I'm fine," Jack faked a smile and walked over to the birthday cake.
"Make a wish," his mother said, with her hands clasped together and a big smile on her face.
Jack closed his eyes and wished to stop seeing all those things he considered to be hallucinations caused by his fatigue.
"Bravo!" his parents shouted, as they both clapped for their son's celebration.
However, Jack still seemed very strange and thoughtful. He appeared to be absent, not truly present in the room with them.
Jack's parents exchanged looks at the same time and both sighed deeply.
"Is it because of the screen you're looking at?" his father asked, his voice filled with fear.
Jack felt as though his world had turned 360 degrees, and everything around him collapsed.
How the hell was it possible that his father knew about the screen he was looking at? Wasn't it supposed to be something only he could see?
"What did you say, Dad?" Jack asked, completely incredulous.
"Son, we..." his mother began, but was immediately interrupted by Jack.
"How the hell do you know about the things I'm seeing?" he asked, distrust evident in his voice.
"I knew this day would come," Jack's father shrugged and sat down in his favorite armchair.
"Please take a seat, son. We have something very important to tell you," his mother said, her tone very serious.
"No, I don’t want to sit down. What I want is an explanation, right now," Jack said.
"We're not poor!" Jack's father confessed, sitting back in his armchair.
Jack's father felt a great sense of relief as he finally removed the weight from his shoulders and the knot from his throat, a burden that had been driving him crazy since Jack was born.
"What are you talking about? We live in a humble house, in a dangerous neighborhood, and I’ve been working for two years to pay for a wedding ring," Jack demanded.
"I'm sorry. Those are the rules. We can't help you financially. You have to make your own fortune," his mother explained.
"Rules? What rules are you talking about?" Jack insisted.
"The screen you're looking at is part of a system that has made every member of our family wealthy for generations," his father said.
Jack placed his hands on his head and paced around the living room in circles as he processed the information his father had just given him.
It was hard to believe his parents' words, but they would never joke about something as serious as this.
"I was hit," Jack confessed suddenly.
"Hit? Who hit you?" his mother asked, concerned.
"I was mortally wounded. I should be dead, but that thing restored me. How is that possible?" Jack asked.
"It's a very sophisticated system. Even we don't know exactly how it works. All we know is that we have to do everything it tells us, and we'll be rewarded with a lot of money," his father answered.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Jack demanded.
"It's the rules. We agreed to live as poor people for 18 years because we love you, son," his mother insisted.
Jack was agitated and confused. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. He could only hold his head and walk in circles on the carpet.
"You just have to follow the rules, and the system will make you an extremely rich man," his father raised his voice to be heard by his son.
"Never reject an offer, or you will be punished," Jack's mother warned, worried for her son.
"What if I don’t want to be part of this sadistic and perverse game? ... Do you at least know who is behind that screen?" Jack continued, deeply distressed.
"You have no choice..." his father said.
"The system didn’t choose you, you're just our son, and that's how it works," Jack's mother tried to make him understand and reason with him.
"Then... I don't want to be your son anymore," Jack said and opened the door to run away from there.
"Jack!" his father shouted, quickly getting up from his armchair.
"Wait!" his mother also ran after him, but Jack disappeared into the rain, running quickly.
As he ran, the screen appeared again before his eyes.
[ MILLIONAIRE #4 OFFERS $100,000 TO COME HOME
ACCEPT REJECT ]
But Jack was too upset to accept. He didn’t want to continue being part of this game. So he decided to completely ignore the screen.
[MILLIONAIRE #4 INCREASES THE OFFER TO $200,000
ACCEPT REJECT]
Jack stopped under the rain and began shouting like a madman.
"Enough! Enough! You can’t be inside my head!"
Jack grabbed his head and bent down, overwhelmed with frustration.
"I’m going to reject this nonsense once and for all," Jack said.
Jack decided to break the rules his mother had warned him about and rejected the offer from Millionaire #4.
[YOU HAVE REJECTED AN OFFER. YOU WILL BE PUNISHED WITH AN HOUR WITHOUT BEING ABLE TO WALK.]
"What?" Jack exclaimed before collapsing to the ground and watching in terror as his legs were completely immobile.
It was at that moment that he realized his mother had been right all along. He should never have rejected that offer.
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Chapter 167
The Citadel flickered with the reflection of millions of screens, each one displaying the notification from the Euphoria App. Carl Stanton, now fully returned from his twisted retrospection, watched as his empire of chaos continued to spin, relentless. Fred’s massacre, Jack’s defiance—it was all part of his design. And now, the stage was set for a new battle.A now-familiar hum, the sound of broadcasting drones, intensified over the city. The transmission lit up on every device, on every screen. The insatiable public prepared to enjoy another show about to begin.At the center of the projections, two faces. Two names that fate had chosen to pit against each other in the second round. The first, a middle-aged man in a flawless tailored suit, despite the dust and ruin surrounding him. His gaze was cold, calculating, a sharp intelligence gleaming in his eyes. Perhaps the most well-known contestant of all: THEO WALTON.His description read:[ ELITE MILLIONAIRE...STATS: HIGH.PREVIOUS VIC
Chapter 166
Carl Stanton’s rage still simmered beneath the surface of his skin—a dormant volcano visible through his eyes.Jack’s insolence, his son’s utter disregard for his rules, was a deeply personal offense, one that gnawed at him.The image of Jack pointing directly at the drone, that defiant stare, repeated in Carl’s mind over and over, endlessly. It was a warning, yes—but also a confirmation: Jack was coming for him, driven by a thirst for vengeance Carl knew all too well. Too well. Because that same thirst, that same ruthless ambition, had once fueled Carl’s own rise to power.His anger began to mingle with a strange melancholy, a distant echo of the past. The throne of skulls, once a symbol of his triumph, now served momentarily as a reminder of the horrors and sacrifices that had forged him.Carl closed his eyes, his head heavy in his hand, and the Citadel faded away, replaced by the raw images of his exile—the path that led him to become the Absolute Millionaire. That’s when he began
Chapter 165
The air in the Citadel was thick, saturated with the suffering brought on by the deaths of all those wandering millionaires who had tried to gain entry—and with the expensive perfume of those who had succeeded. It was a life of madness that many were beginning to get used to.Carl Stanton, Absolute Millionaire Number Zero, sat upon his throne of skulls, a macabre monument to his unstoppable ascent. The polished bones creaked softly beneath his weight, and that sound was music to his ears. Only someone like him could find amusement in such a way with the corpses of his enemies.In front of him, the vibrant hologram of the Euphoria App’s broadcast projected the brutal reality of the human world. Drones—his omnipresent eyes and ears—transmitted the signal directly to the spiritual world, and simultaneously, to the screens of other users watching his game.His gaze was fixed on the image: Jack shooting Fred, the “Bone Eater,” squarely in the forehead. A clean shot, dead center between the
Chapter 164
The bodies were piling up in the improvised morgue. The public library had become a grotesque pyramid of flesh and bone. These were the remains of Carl Stanton's "armies"—the teenagers and young adults who had fallen in the senseless war against the police. Their faces, frozen in expressions of terror and regret, stood as silent testimony to the manipulation that had led them to their deaths. The forensic workers, exhausted and glassy-eyed, could barely keep up. The city had become a massive graveyard, where death visited daily.As death filled every corner, a light flickered on millions of screens. The vibrant glow of the Absolute Millionaire System. The users—those who had survived the street war with the police or simply watched it from the safety of their shelters—saw the logo of the Euphoria App come back to life. A pair of snakes staring menacingly at the viewer. Carl Stanton gave the contestants no rest.A sharp, piercing beep rang in everyone’s ears, a vibration announcing the
Chapter 163
The Citadel stood, imposing and opulent, a testament to Carl Stanton's absolute power. It was his pedestal, beyond the sight of the wretched streets of the spirit world, where Absolute Millionaire Number Zero reveled in his latest creation. The throne room, a sanctuary of polished marble and gleaming steel, was bathed in a cold light that highlighted the centerpiece of his macabre work: his new throne.It was no ordinary throne. This architectural abomination had been meticulously assembled from the skulls of all the traitors who dared to conceive a coup against him. Each empty socket, each fractured jaw, narrated a story of failed attack and brutal punishment.But they weren't the only ones on the throne. Among the bony remains mingled the skulls of wandering millionaires who, panicked and desperate, had died by the dozens trying to force their way into the impenetrable Citadel, seeking refuge from the horrors lurking in the slums and the dark forest. These were the remains of those
Chapter 162
Another morning had dawned upon the city. Those who still breathed thanked their god for the miracle of being alive. All was tranquil until the world froze with the artificial glow of millions of technological screens that lit up simultaneously.The anticipation was a palpable electric current, a contained roar that vibrated in the depths of every user, who couldn't wait to know the names of the next contenders.Carl Stanton had created something far more addictive than any drug. He had created the addiction of chaos, and its results had not disappointed. After the brutal previous battle, which ended with the massacre of Fronteit, the public yearned for more.A familiar hum, already known to everyone, was the prelude to a blood spectacle. That sound vibrated in the air, followed by a sharp beep that pierced the eardrums of every user of the Euphoria App. The logo pulsed with a reddish light, like a heart beating in a predator's chest, and then projected onto the screens, like some der
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