《Infinity Artisan》 1. The Beginning Chapter 1 Daniel Orz clenched his fists beneath the desk as Leo Zam¡¯s voice echoed through the small, sterile office. The sharp accusations felt like shards of glass, each word splintering the confidence he had spent the past years building. The words didn''t make sense ¡ª he knew he hadn''t made those mistakes. And yet, Leo''s glare bore into him, as though he were guilty by default. Once, Daniel had admired Leo. He had seen him as a beacon of experience, someone who led with authority and fairness. But now, that admiration had crumbled into dust, swept away by the torrent of unwarranted blame. The respect he once held had vanished, replaced by a simmering resentment that coiled tightly within his chest. Leo paused, breathing heavily, his face contorted with frustration. The silence in the room was suffocating, but Daniel refused to speak. Anything he said now would be twisted, he knew. His jaw tightened. The walls of the office, once a space of professional growth, now felt like a prison cell. As Leo dismissed him with a wave, Daniel rose, his movements mechanical. He left the office without a word, his mind a swirling storm of indignation. The fluorescent lights of the corridor buzzed above him, but all he could hear was the dull roar of his own thoughts. Something had changed today. Something irreversible. The door clicked shut behind him, and Daniel knew one thing for certain ¡ª the respect he had lost for Leo could never be regained. Daniel''s once-prized dream job now felt like a cruel joke. The glow of achievement he''d felt when he first walked through the office doors had long since faded, replaced by an oppressive grayness that seeped into every moment of his day. Each keystroke, every line of code he typed as an IT technician, felt heavy, devoid of the joy he used to find in solving complex technical problems. His passion, once so vibrant, was slowly being smothered. When he first approached his supervisor, he''d held on to a shred of hope ¡ª hope that someone would recognize the unfairness, that someone would stop Leo''s unwarranted tirades. But when the supervisor brushed his concerns aside with an indifferent shrug, something cracked inside him. The betrayal wasn''t just from Leo anymore; it was from the very system he worked for, a system that was supposed to protect him but instead left him stranded. The resentment grew like a bitter root, spreading until it poisoned everything. The once-familiar hum of the servers became an irritant. The bright screens, a source of constant strain. Every interaction with his coworkers felt like a performance, masking the frustration boiling beneath the surface. He spent evenings scouring job boards, his eyes blurring as he submitted application after application. Each rejection email stung more than the last, tightening the trap he felt caught in. Six months of futile searching weighed on him, a grim reminder that escape wasn''t as simple as he''d hoped. Daniel¡¯s mornings became a struggle against dread, the simple act of getting out of bed a battle he barely won each day. The walls of his office cubicle felt smaller now, closing in on him. His once-clear vision of a future filled with purpose and achievement was now clouded by doubt and exhaustion. But deep within the fog of his discontent, a quiet determination flickered. He couldn¡¯t stay here forever. There had to be a way out, even if he hadn¡¯t found it yet. And until he did, he clung to that fragile hope, believing that one day he would break free, that one day he would work in a place where his talents were valued, not crushed. For now, he endured ¡ª but he refused to let this place define his worth. One day, he was sitting infront of his workstation, doing an evaluation report. The click of the mouse was the only sound in Daniel''s section as he wrapped up his evaluation report. The low hum of the computers was strangely soothing, a brief respite from the storm that often brewed in his mind. He was just about to stand and stretch when he saw Leo Zam striding towards him, the familiar scowl carved into his face. Daniel¡¯s stomach tightened. The office was empty save for him, his coworkers having stepped out for a break, and his supervisor conveniently nowhere to be seen. He was alone, trapped in the crosshairs of Leo¡¯s irritation. Leo stopped at his desk, his eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. ¡°Daniel,¡± he began, his tone biting, ¡°have the new computers been set up for the board members?¡± Daniel blinked, confusion flashing across his face. He hadn¡¯t been told anything about new computers. He searched his memory, hoping he¡¯d missed some communication, but there was nothing. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about that, sir,¡± Daniel answered carefully, trying to keep his voice steady. Leo¡¯s eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring. The silence between them stretched painfully, thick with tension. Then, Leo¡¯s voice cracked like a whip. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t!¡± he snapped, his lip curling in disdain. ¡°What do you even do around here? You and your whole section just sit on your hands while the rest of us have to pick up the slack!¡± The words stung, each syllable like a slap to the face. Daniel felt his pulse quicken, heat rushing to his cheeks. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. His mind raced, grasping for a defense, for a justification ¡ª but what was the point? He knew Leo didn¡¯t want an explanation. He wanted a target, and Daniel was right there.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! A bitter, metallic taste filled his mouth. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to fire back, to tell Leo how tirelessly he worked, how much he gave to this place despite the miserable conditions. But he held his tongue. Speaking up had never worked before; it would only fuel Leo''s anger further. Leo leaned closer, his voice a low, contemptuous hiss. ¡°Maybe if you spent less time pretending to work and more time actually doing something useful, you wouldn¡¯t be such a disappointment.¡± Without waiting for a response, Leo turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving a trail of simmering resentment in his wake. Daniel¡¯s hands trembled as he stared at his screen. The cursor blinked back at him, indifferent to his turmoil. The room felt colder, smaller. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, but it wasn¡¯t enough to quiet the storm inside him. The resentment that had smoldered for months flared into something sharper, something closer to rage. This wasn¡¯t just frustration anymore. It was a breaking point. He couldn''t stay here. He wouldn¡¯t stay here. As the sound of Leo¡¯s footsteps faded down the hall, Daniel¡¯s resolve solidified. If no one else would change his situation, he would have to find a way to change it himself. Even if it took everything he had. The door creaked softly as Daniel''s supervisor, Ray Brown slipped back into the section, his expression neutral as he settled into his chair and focused on his screen. The quiet resumed, the ambient noise of the office crawling back like a low tide. Daniel glanced at Ray, his own thoughts a swirling vortex of frustration and confusion. He bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to vent about what had just happened. There was no point ¡ª he knew how that conversation would end. Just as Daniel forced his attention back to his work, Leo¡¯s familiar figure loomed in the doorway once again. The room tensed. Daniel''s breath caught in his chest, his shoulders tightening instinctively as he braced for another confrontation. But Leo¡¯s eyes skipped over him and landed on Ray instead. ¡°Ray,¡± Leo said, his voice a stark contrast to the anger he''d unleashed moments ago. It was soft, measured. Almost friendly. ¡°About those new computers for the board ¡ª any update?¡± Ray swiveled his chair slightly and leaned back. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯ll take at least two more days to get them set up. We¡¯re waiting on a few configurations.¡± Leo nodded, his face relaxed, the annoyance completely gone. ¡°Alright, sounds good. Thanks for the update, Ray.¡± His tone was warm, appreciative, as though he were speaking to an old friend. He turned on his heel and walked out, the door closing gently behind him. Daniel sat frozen, disbelief pooling in his chest. His mind replayed the scene over and over. The same question echoed louder each time: Why? Why was Leo so calm, so respectful with Ray, when just minutes ago he had berated Daniel with venomous accusations? His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The disparity, the blatant unfairness of it, gnawed at him. His resentment crystallized, sharp and heavy. It wasn''t just about Leo''s anger anymore. It was the realization that Leo chose to direct that anger at him ¡ª and not at Ray. The favoritism, the double standard, was undeniable. He wondered if it was something about him, something he couldn''t see. Was it his demeanor? His approach? Was he too easy of a target? The questions piled up like a weight on his chest, suffocating him with doubt and frustration. The hum of Ray¡¯s typing filled the silence, a cruel reminder of the chasm between how Leo treated them. Daniel¡¯s fingers hovered over his keyboard, the will to continue working slipping away. In that moment, he knew the resentment he felt for Leo was now spreading to the entire system, the office, the hierarchy that enabled this kind of treatment. His dream job had become a nightmare, and each day he stayed was a reminder that he was trapped ¡ª for now. But a new thought bubbled up beneath the anger, a fragile thread of determination. He might be stuck here for the moment, but he wouldn''t let them break him. Not completely. Not forever. Daniel took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing slightly. If they wouldn¡¯t respect him, he¡¯d find a way to respect himself ¡ª even if it meant walking away one day, on his own terms. Two days after the incident, Daniel was working on an upload to the website. Daniel''s fingers hovered over the keyboard, the cursor blinking on his screen as the weight of Leo''s presence hung in the air. Graham Bobber, seated beside him, seemed unfazed by Leo¡¯s arrival, his usual relaxed demeanor unchanged. Leo''s eyes flicked toward Daniel, the same cold, disapproving glare that had become all too familiar. That brief, disdainful glance stung more than words could. Daniel felt his jaw tighten, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. But this time, he wasn¡¯t the target. Leo walked over to Graham, his expression softening like melting ice. ¡°Hey, Graham,¡± he said, his voice smooth and warm, ¡°how¡¯s the setup going for the board members¡¯ computers?¡± Graham leaned back slightly, rubbing his chin. ¡°Not done yet, Leo. We¡¯re still finalizing the configurations. Might need a bit more time.¡± To Daniel¡¯s astonishment, Leo simply nodded, his face calm and understanding. ¡°Alright, no problem. Just try to get them done as soon as you can, yeah? The board¡¯s eager to have them.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± Graham replied with a casual smile. Leo patted Graham¡¯s shoulder lightly, offered a small grin, and then walked out of the section without another word. The door closed behind him with a soft click, but the silence left behind felt deafening. Daniel¡¯s eyes remained fixed on his screen, though he wasn¡¯t seeing anything. His thoughts were a tangled mess of confusion, resentment, and bitter disbelief. Why? The question screamed through his mind. Why did Leo¡¯s voice soften for Graham, for Ray, for everyone but him? Why was he the one who got the glares, the accusations, the unfiltered anger? Was it something about his work? His demeanor? Was he just an easy scapegoat? He could feel the frustration tightening in his chest, a lead weight pressing down on him. His hands curled into fists on the desk, knuckles whitening. ¡°Hey, you good?¡± Graham¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts, light and unbothered. Daniel forced a tight smile, swallowing the lump in his throat. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± But he wasn¡¯t. Every part of him burned with the unfairness of it. He¡¯d given his best to this job, worked just as hard as anyone else ¡ª sometimes harder ¡ª and yet, it was like Leo only saw him as a failure, a punching bag for his frustrations. The anger that simmered within him now had a razor-sharp edge. He wasn¡¯t just upset with Leo anymore; he was furious with the entire toxic environment that allowed this to happen. The favoritism, the double standards, the way his hard work went unnoticed while his mistakes, real or imagined, were amplified. 2. Light In the Dark Chapter 2 Daniel took a shaky breath, his eyes narrowing. He couldn¡¯t stay trapped in this cycle of disrespect and resentment forever. Something had to change. If he couldn¡¯t find a way out just yet, he would at least find a way to reclaim his self-respect, to stop letting Leo¡¯s treatment erode his confidence. As he stared at the screen, his reflection stared back, a reminder of who he was ¡ª and who he refused to become under Leo¡¯s shadow. He might not have control over Leo¡¯s actions, but he still had control over his own. And he wouldn¡¯t let anyone, not even Leo Zam, decide his worth. The days blurred into each other, a relentless cycle of tension and dread. Each morning, Daniel forced himself out of bed, the weight of another inevitable confrontation with Leo pressing heavily on his chest. He could feel his patience unraveling, thread by thread, as the bullying continued ¡ª sharp comments, dismissive glares, baseless accusations. It was like death by a thousand cuts. He''d replayed the idea of reporting Leo to HR a dozen times in his mind. The thought had given him a flicker of hope at first, the idea that someone, anyone, might intervene and put an end to this. But every time he let that hope rise, reality came crashing back down. Leo wasn¡¯t just any manager; he held sway over people far above Daniel in the hierarchy. The stories he''d heard ¡ª whispered rumors in break rooms, cautionary tales shared over quiet lunches ¡ª painted a grim picture. Employees who dared to report their bosses often found themselves mysteriously let go for ¡°performance issues¡± or labeled as ¡°troublemakers.¡± Even if the rumors weren¡¯t entirely true, the fear they planted was real enough. Daniel couldn''t afford to lose his job, even if it felt like a prison sentence at times. His fingers gripped the edge of his desk one morning, his knuckles pale. The walls of the office felt closer now, suffocating. The constant hum of machinery, the clack of keyboards, the low murmur of his coworkers ¡ª all of it grated on him. The air itself seemed hostile, charged with unspoken tension. He watched Leo pass by his section, the familiar disdainful look cast in his direction. Daniel¡¯s jaw tightened. His pulse thudded in his ears. Every cell in his body screamed that this wasn¡¯t right, that he shouldn¡¯t have to endure this. But the fear of making things worse anchored him to his seat. What if they fire me? The thought echoed relentlessly. He couldn''t take that risk. Not now. Not when his job search over the past six months had yielded nothing but rejection. Instead, he swallowed his frustration, letting it simmer silently. The resentment gnawed at him, hollowing him out bit by bit. He felt trapped, a mouse in a maze designed by someone else, with no clear way out. But deep down, beneath the exhaustion and the anger, a new resolve was forming ¡ª small, but unyielding. He couldn¡¯t control Leo, couldn¡¯t change the system overnight, but he could control how much power he allowed them to have over him. He could plan, he could prepare, and when the right opportunity came, he would be ready. Daniel took a deep breath and straightened in his chair. The battle wasn¡¯t over yet. He wasn¡¯t giving up. Not now. Not ever. The days bled into each other, a relentless and unforgiving loop. Each morning, Daniel dragged himself out of bed, his body feeling heavier with every step. The mental exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. His reflection in the bathroom mirror showed sunken eyes and dull features ¡ª a ghost of the person he once was. Work offered no respite. The weight of Leo''s scorn and the soul-crushing monotony of the job bore down on him, draining him of what little strength he had left. The flickering hope he once held onto now seemed laughable, a cruel joke played by fate. Each keystroke, each task, felt like trudging through wet cement. By the time he trudged home in the evening, the numbness had spread to his very core. He slipped out of his work clothes, the motions mechanical, and collapsed onto his bed. Sleep came instantly ¡ª not the restful kind, but a desperate, dreamless plunge into unconsciousness. Hours passed in a heartbeat, and before he knew it, the alarm¡¯s piercing ring dragged him back into the same grim reality. Overtime on weekends blurred the boundaries between his work life and personal life, until there was no personal life left. The two-day reprieve that should have been his escape was stolen from him, replaced by extra hours under Leo¡¯s shadow. His resentment had become a constant companion, a simmering fire that consumed his spirit. He resented Leo. He resented the office. He even resented the clock on the wall that dictated his days. In the quiet darkness of his room, when exhaustion hadn¡¯t yet pulled him under, he prayed. He prayed for something better ¡ª for a way out, for a chance to breathe again. But the weeks dragged on, and the rejection emails continued to pile up. Each one chipped away at the fragile hope he was desperately clinging to.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! He felt trapped, like a bird in a cage too small to stretch its wings. The weight of it was suffocating. He no longer felt like he was living ¡ª just existing, barely enduring one day so he could face another. Yet, even in the depths of this despair, a faint ember of hope refused to die. He didn¡¯t know how much longer he could keep going, but deep down, he whispered to himself: One day. One day, this will change. Until then, he pushed forward through the darkness, waiting for the light he could no longer see but still believed might be out there, somewhere. Daniel sat on the edge of his bed, phone pressed against his ear, his fingers trembling slightly as he spoke. The walls of his apartment felt cold, closing in on him as he finally let out the words he¡¯d been holding back for too long. ¡°I can¡¯t take it anymore, Mom,¡± his voice cracked. ¡°Leo¡¯s been making my life miserable. He yells at me for things I haven¡¯t even done, and it doesn¡¯t matter how hard I try. I just... I just want to quit. I don¡¯t care if I don¡¯t have another job lined up yet. I just can¡¯t keep doing this.¡± A heavy silence filled the line. For a moment, all he could hear was the distant hum of traffic outside his window. His mother, Diana, who had supported him through every challenge, finally spoke, her voice calm but tinged with worry. ¡°Daniel, I know how hard this is for you,¡± she began softly. ¡°I hate knowing you¡¯re suffering like this. But quitting without another job to go to... you¡¯ll only be making things harder on yourself.¡± Her words settled over him like a heavy blanket. He could almost see her, sitting in the worn armchair at home, worry lines etched into her face, the same face that had always looked at him with pride and hope. ¡°I worked so hard to help you get that degree,¡± Diana continued, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°You¡¯ve worked so hard to get here. If you leave now without a plan, you¡¯ll be putting yourself in a worse position. No income, no security. I don¡¯t want you to suffer more than you already are.¡± ¡°But Mom,¡± Daniel whispered, the exhaustion in his voice clear, ¡°I feel like I¡¯m dying inside. Every day I go to that office, it just chips away at me. I come home and just fall asleep. I¡¯m not even living anymore.¡± ¡°I know,¡± she said gently. ¡°I wish I could take that pain away, but I need you to be smart about this. You need to think long-term. You know how hard it¡¯s been to find another job these past few months. If you quit now, you could end up in a worse place. No job, no stability. And that¡¯s a burden I don¡¯t want you to bear.¡± Her words, though spoken with love, felt like a cage closing tighter around him. He understood her logic, knew that she was right. The risk of walking away with nothing to fall back on loomed large, but the thought of staying and enduring Leo¡¯s abuse felt unbearable. ¡°You¡¯re stronger than this, Daniel,¡± she said softly. ¡°I know it doesn¡¯t feel that way now, but you are. Keep looking for another job. Hold on just a little longer. Something better will come along. I promise.¡± Daniel closed his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. His mother¡¯s faith in him was unwavering, even when his own had vanished. Her words didn¡¯t erase the pain, didn¡¯t make the days ahead any easier, but they wrapped around him like a threadbare safety net. ¡°Okay, Mom,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll hold on a little longer.¡± ¡°Good,¡± she said, her voice warm. ¡°And remember, I¡¯m always here. You¡¯re not alone.¡± As the call ended, Daniel sat in the quiet of his room, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. The road ahead was dark, but his mother¡¯s words were a faint light ¡ª just enough to keep him moving forward, one painful step at a time. The announcement came on a quiet afternoon, the buzz of the office momentarily giving way to the excited chatter filtering through the halls. Daniel glanced at the news notification on his phone: "Total Solar Eclipse to Occur in Three Days ¡ª Government Declares National Holiday!" For the first time in what felt like months, a spark of genuine excitement flickered in Daniel¡¯s chest. He leaned back in his chair, rereading the headline just to make sure he hadn¡¯t imagined it. A holiday. A real holiday. No overtime. No oppressive deadlines. No Leo Zam breathing down his neck. A wave of relief washed over him. The thought of a day that was entirely his, free of work and its suffocating pressures, felt almost surreal. He didn¡¯t care about the eclipse itself ¡ª the idea of standing outside, looking up at the sky, held little appeal. What mattered was the freedom. The chance to unplug, to lose himself in the things that once brought him joy. He could already picture it: the soft glow of his monitor as he booted up his favorite video games, the rapid click of his mouse as he dove into new worlds, leaving behind the weight of reality. He could spend hours editing videos, piecing together clips, and watching his ideas come to life on the screen. These were the things that made him feel alive, the things that reminded him he was more than just an overworked IT technician. For once, he felt like he had control over his time, his choices. The thought of not having to hear Leo¡¯s voice or feel the oppressive air of the office lifted a burden he hadn¡¯t realized he was carrying so heavily. Around him, his coworkers talked excitedly about where they would watch the eclipse ¡ª parks, rooftops, family gatherings. But Daniel didn¡¯t need any of that. His plan was simple, and to him, it was perfect: a day locked away in his sanctuary, his apartment, where the outside world couldn¡¯t touch him. He let out a breath he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been holding and allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. Just three more days. Three more days of trudging through the routine, and then, finally, a break. One day to remember what it felt like to be himself again. And he intended to savor every second of it. 3. Awakening Chapter 3 The day of the eclipse had finally arrived. For the first time in months, Daniel awoke feeling something close to happiness. The weight of work, of Leo¡¯s scorn, of the unrelenting grind ¡ª all of it felt distant, like a bad dream he was finally waking from. He stretched, the soft morning light filtering through his curtains. Today was his day. From 6 a.m. to noon, he immersed himself in his favorite video games, the hours slipping by like water. The glow of the monitor, the thrill of gameplay, and the familiar satisfaction of winning matched only by the quiet joy of being free. He took a brief break around 9 a.m. for breakfast ¡ª coffee and a bagel ¡ª before diving back into another virtual world. At 2 p.m., the pang of hunger broke his focus. He paused, stretching out his stiff fingers, and decided it was time to grab something to eat. Throwing on a hoodie, he stepped out into the hushed streets. The world felt oddly subdued under the twilight-like gloom caused by the eclipse. Shadows were longer, colors muted, as though reality itself had dimmed. By now, the sun was completely covered, a black disk surrounded by a ghostly halo of light. Daniel didn¡¯t pay much attention to it; the celestial event wasn¡¯t why he was here. He hurried to the nearest deli, picked up a sandwich and a drink, and started his walk back home. That¡¯s when he heard it ¡ª a low, distant rumble, like far-off thunder. It rolled through the air, vibrating in his chest, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing as he turned his head, trying to locate the source. The sound was coming from above. Instinctively, he looked up at the eclipsed sun. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat. The sky, darkened by the moon¡¯s shadow, shimmered with iridescent rainbow colors swirling around the edges of the sun. The colors pulsed and twisted, like oil on water, shimmering in strange, hypnotic patterns. It was mesmerizing, otherworldly, beautiful ¡ª and utterly wrong. A wave of dizziness hit him like a freight train. The ground beneath his feet seemed to tilt, and his vision blurred at the edges. His stomach churned, and a sudden cold sweat prickled his skin. With a surge of panic, he tore his gaze away, squeezing his eyes shut. He swayed on his feet, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The distant rumble continued, resonating deep in his bones. He stumbled forward, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. What was that? He tried to shake off the dizziness, but the feeling clung to him, a nauseating fog that refused to lift. His sandwich slipped from his hand, forgotten, as he pressed his palm against a nearby wall to steady himself. The world around him seemed both too quiet and too loud, the air thick with an unnameable tension. Something was happening. Something beyond a simple solar eclipse. And deep in his gut, Daniel knew ¡ª this was no ordinary day. Daniel stumbled into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. He took a shaky breath, his head pounding. The swirling rainbow lights were still there, flickering across his vision like ghostly trails. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear them, but they persisted ¡ª slithering across his field of view in chaotic, vibrant patterns. A sharp wave of nausea coiled in his gut. He barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting, his body heaving as if trying to expel the unsettling sensation. The rainbow lights in his vision faded with each heave, until finally, mercifully, they were gone. He leaned against the sink, his forehead damp with sweat, and took a few steadying breaths. When he felt stable again, he wiped his face, rinsed his mouth, and trudged back to his desk. He needed a distraction, something to anchor himself back to reality. He booted up his laptop and launched CS:GO, the familiar sound effects and loading screen bringing a sense of normalcy. Gaming always made him feel in control, a small slice of certainty in a world that often felt chaotic. The match started, and Daniel was focused. But his sense of comfort was short-lived. In the game, an opponent with the username ¡°ShadowStrike¡± dominated the field. Each move was precise, each shot lethal. Daniel couldn¡¯t get a single break ¡ª every time he rounded a corner, ShadowStrike was there, landing headshots with unnerving accuracy. Frustration bubbled in his chest. ¡°This guy has to be hacking,¡± he muttered, his jaw clenched. All he wanted was one win, just one victory against this player. Suddenly, in the middle of a firefight, his character moved on its own. His screen spun, and his crosshair snapped onto ShadowStrike¡¯s head ¡ª bang. A perfect headshot. Daniel blinked, his hand frozen on the mouse. ¡°What the...?¡± He hadn¡¯t made that move. His fingers hadn¡¯t even twitched. Yet his character had reacted faster than his reflexes ever could. He shook his head, trying to brush it off as a glitch, and rejoined the fight. It happened again. And again. Each time, his character reacted with impossible speed, pulling off flawless shots. ShadowStrike, the player who had seemed invincible, was now falling to Daniel over and over. The tide of the match had turned, but it wasn¡¯t his doing. His heart pounded in his chest. His palms felt clammy against the mouse. Am I being hacked? The thought sent a chill down his spine. But the movements weren¡¯t erratic or malicious; they were precise, calculated ¡ª almost like a professional player had taken control. He checked his processes, his firewalls, his antivirus software. Everything looked normal. No sign of an intruder. But his character kept moving with a precision that wasn¡¯t his own. It was as if his body had gained a new instinct, a reflex buried somewhere deep within him.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. A strange thought whispered at the edge of his mind: Was this connected to the rainbow lights? To the eclipse? He shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea. It was ridiculous. Wasn¡¯t it? But as he returned to the game, watching his character perform feats he knew were beyond his skill, doubt gnawed at him. Something was happening ¡ª something he couldn¡¯t explain. And for the first time in a long while, Daniel felt a chill that had nothing to do with Leo, or work, or exhaustion. It was a chill of uncertainty. Of fear. And of something else, too ¡ª a thrill he couldn¡¯t quite name. Time blurred into a haze of victories and adrenaline. Daniel¡¯s fingers danced over the keyboard and mouse, each movement seamless, each match a triumph. The strange phenomenon persisted ¡ª his character moving with impossible precision, pulling off shots that left opponents bewildered. At first, it unnerved him, but the thrill of winning, of finally being on top, dulled his worry. He pushed his doubts aside, sinking deeper into the intoxicating rhythm of the game. For once, he felt powerful. Invincible. The nagging weight of work, Leo¡¯s insults, and the crushing exhaustion all faded as he dominated round after round. Each victory was a small rebellion against the world that had beaten him down for so long. But all good things end. The digital clock on his desk blinked 11:58 PM. The glow of the monitor seemed colder now, the room falling into a hollow silence as he logged out. His smile faded, replaced by a grim heaviness that settled over his shoulders. The brief freedom he¡¯d found in the game slipped away like sand through his fingers. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, the reality of tomorrow looming over him like a dark cloud. The office. The suffocating air. The drudgery. And Leo. The thought of it all made his stomach churn. He shut his laptop, the click of the lid closing sounding too final, too ominous. The thrill he had felt just moments ago was gone, replaced by the cold, hard truth: his real life was still a prison. A place where his victories didn¡¯t matter and his worth was questioned at every turn. As he crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling, that familiar dread coiled in his chest, tightening with each breath. Back to slavery, he thought bitterly. Back to a place where his time wasn¡¯t his own, where his efforts went unnoticed, and where escape felt impossible. His eyelids grew heavy, and sleep dragged him down. But even in the depths of exhaustion, a flicker of rebellion remained. He didn¡¯t know what was happening to him, or why his game had changed so dramatically, but a part of him whispered that this strange power, whatever it was, might be more than just a glitch. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was a chance. As the darkness of sleep swallowed him, one thought lingered in his mind: There has to be more than this. The next morning arrived like a heavy fog, wrapping Daniel in the familiar dread that made each step towards the office feel like wading through quicksand. He settled into his desk, the hum of computers and distant murmurs of coworkers already grating on his nerves. The thought of another soul-draining day made his stomach twist, but he pushed it down. To his relief, Leo didn¡¯t make an appearance. The absence of conflict felt like a small mercy, a rare quiet in the storm of his life. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. His task for the day was a specification evaluation ¡ª the kind of tedious, detail-oriented work that often took hours. He eyed the stack of documents, feeling his muscles tense. I just want this done, he thought, the desire burning in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to get through this quickly and avoid sinking deeper into the quagmire of his daily frustration. Then, the screen flickered. His eyes widened as the computer seemed to come to life. Windows opened, data flowed across the screen in rapid succession, and comparisons began to auto-populate. Numbers crunched, specifications matched ¡ª all of it happening faster than his mind could process. Within seconds, the evaluation sheet was complete, every detail meticulously filled in. Daniel stared at the screen, his mouth slightly open. His heart pounded in his chest. He hadn¡¯t touched the keyboard or clicked a single button. His mind raced, the same feeling of disbelief he¡¯d had during the CS:GO matches rushing back to him. Did I¡­ do that? The sheet looked flawless. Hesitantly, he printed it out and walked over to Ray¡¯s desk. Ray barely looked up, accepting the sheet with a practiced indifference. His eyes scanned the document, flipping through each page. Finally, he nodded and grabbed the approval stamp, pressing it down with a satisfying thud. ¡°Looks good, Daniel,¡± Ray said, his tone neutral but his approval clear. ¡°Thanks,¡± Daniel murmured, his mind swirling. As he walked back to his desk, he clutched the evaluation sheet in his hands, his thoughts colliding with each other. The ease with which the task had been completed, the flawless execution ¡ª it wasn¡¯t normal. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible. But it was. And it had happened right when he desperately wanted it to. Just like the headshots in CS:GO. What if this¡­ phenomenon only works when I want something to happen? he wondered. The pieces clicked together in his mind. The pattern was undeniable. He glanced around the office, the drab walls and flickering lights suddenly seeming less oppressive. If he could will his way through impossible tasks, what else could he do? How far did this strange power go? The idea filled him with a spark of excitement, the kind he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. For the first time, the thought of being trapped in this job didn¡¯t seem so absolute. There was potential here, a sliver of possibility that maybe ¡ª just maybe ¡ª he could turn his situation around. A thrill of anticipation coursed through him. He didn¡¯t have all the answers yet, but one thing was clear: He was no longer powerless. As the day ended and Daniel left the office, an unusual energy coursed through him. For the first time in months, his footsteps felt light. His mind buzzed with anticipation. A plan was forming, one that could finally tip the scales in his favor. He didn¡¯t have to slog through tasks endlessly. If his newfound ability could help him at work, then maybe ¡ª just maybe ¡ª he could make his life better. When he got home, the evening shadows stretching across his apartment, he wasted no time. He tossed his bag onto the chair, changed into comfortable clothes, and pulled out his laptop. The familiar hum of the fan greeted him as the screen flickered to life. It was his old machine, reliable but limited, struggling under its modest specs: 4 GB RAM and an SSD that barely kept up with his needs. But tonight, things would change. He placed his hands on the keyboard, his heart pounding. He closed his eyes, focusing intently. I want my RAM to be 64 GB, he thought, the desire sharp and clear in his mind. I want my SSD to be faster. Smoother. Better. A strange warmth pulsed through his fingertips, like a soft electric current. He opened his eyes and navigated to the system information tab, his breath caught in his throat. The numbers stared back at him: RAM: 64 GB. The SSD speed test showed results he never thought possible ¡ª blazing-fast read and write speeds, the kind usually reserved for high-end rigs. 4. Spark of Defiance Chapter 4 His eyes widened, a mixture of awe and exhilaration washing over him. He clicked through tasks that used to bog his laptop down: rendering videos, running heavy software, multitasking between applications. Everything was instant. Smooth. Effortless. Daniel leaned back, his mind racing. His laptop, once an aging piece of hardware, was now a powerhouse. Tasks that once took hours ¡ª video editing, large data transfers, software compilation ¡ª were completed within seconds. A slow smile spread across his face. The power he wielded was real. Tangible. And it wasn¡¯t limited to just gaming or work tasks. He¡¯d changed the physical hardware of his laptop, bending reality to his will. If he could do this with his laptop, what else could he change? The possibilities were staggering. But first things first ¡ª he had a plan to execute. The office network upgrade was coming soon, and if his ability worked there as well as it had here, he could complete the entire upgrade seamlessly. Maybe even earn some recognition, gain leverage over his situation, or ¡ª at the very least ¡ª find a sense of control in his life. For the first time in what felt like forever, Daniel felt a glimmer of hope. This power could be his way out, his ticket to something better. He closed his laptop, the glow of the screen reflecting his determination. Tomorrow, the real test would begin. The morning light filtered through the office windows as Daniel stepped inside, a quiet resolve settling over him. Today was the day. The plan he had crafted the night before was ready to unfold. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed out a message to Ray, Graham, and Joe Miller. "Hey, I got the network upgrade covered today. You guys can take it easy. I''ll handle everything." Within minutes, the replies came back, each a variation of gratitude and mild surprise. Ray¡¯s was short and to the point: ¡°Alright, thanks, Daniel.¡± The office was quiet, the hum of machines and the faint clatter of keyboards filling the air. Daniel made his way to the server room, the cold air from the cooling systems brushing against his face. The rows of server racks stood before him, blinking lights casting soft glows. This was the heart of the network, the core that kept everything running. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He placed his hand firmly on the cold metal of the server rack, feeling the vibration of the machinery beneath his palm. His eyes closed as he focused, that strange warmth building in his fingertips once more. I want the connection speed to double. He pictured the data streams flowing faster, smoother, the packets of information zipping through the network with newfound efficiency. He could feel the energy pulsing from him into the servers, like a ripple spreading across a still pond. The warmth grew, then dissipated, leaving a quiet stillness in its wake. He opened his eyes and turned to the monitor displaying the network diagnostics. The numbers flashed, the connection speeds recalibrating. His eyes widened slightly as he watched the metrics stabilize: download and upload speeds had increased exactly twofold, just as he intended. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. He could have pushed it further, ten times faster even, but why give that much to a place that had given him nothing but misery? This was enough ¡ª enough to fulfill his duty, enough to make the upgrade worthwhile, but not enough to feel like he was betraying himself. He moved swiftly, double-checking the connections throughout the building. Floor by floor, everything was running seamlessly. Emails were sent faster, downloads completed in half the time, and streaming glitches were nowhere to be found. The office was operating like a well-oiled machine. Just as he wrapped up, the door to the server room creaked open. Ray stepped inside, his eyes scanning the monitors. ¡°Everything done?¡± Ray asked, his usual neutral tone tinged with curiosity. Daniel nodded. ¡°Yeah. Speeds are doubled now. Should be good to go.¡± Ray clicked through a few diagnostics on the screen, his brow lifting slightly as he reviewed the results. He nodded approvingly and reached for the approval stamp he always seemed to carry. With a firm thud, the stamp pressed down on the work order. ¡°Good work, Daniel,¡± Ray said, his voice surprisingly genuine. ¡°This is solid. The higher-ups will appreciate it.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Daniel replied, his voice calm, though inside, a quiet pride blossomed. Ray left the room, and Daniel took a deep breath, the air suddenly feeling lighter. For the first time in a long while, he felt competent, in control ¡ª like he mattered. He wasn¡¯t just surviving the day; he was shaping it. The resentment he held for the organization hadn¡¯t vanished, but today, he¡¯d proven something to himself: he was capable of more than they knew. And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something better. As he powered down the diagnostics, a thought crept into his mind: What else could I change if I wanted to?This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. For the first time, the future didn¡¯t seem like a prison ¡ª it seemed like an open door. Daniel settled into his chair, the hum of the upgraded network a subtle reminder of his handiwork. The buzz of the office seemed louder today, more animated, the clack of keyboards punctuated by murmurs of approval. He caught snippets of conversations as they floated by. ¡°Everything¡¯s running so smooth now. The IT guys really pulled through.¡± ¡°Yeah, about time. Didn¡¯t think they had it in them.¡± The words should have lifted his spirits, but instead, they left a bitter aftertaste. They don¡¯t even know who did it. His gaze swept over the sea of desks, faces buried in monitors or locked in conversation. No one glanced his way, no one offered a nod of acknowledgment. The praise felt hollow, distant, like applause heard through a closed door. Daniel leaned back, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He wasn¡¯t surprised ¡ª recognition had always been reserved for the Rays and Grahams of the office. He was invisible until something went wrong. Always the scapegoat, never the hero. He sighed, staring at his screen as his cursor blinked impatiently. A thought flickered at the edge of his mind, a whisper that refused to be silenced. Why does it matter if they don¡¯t know? He had doubled the network speeds, made their lives easier, proven to himself that he was capable of wielding this strange power. But a deeper part of him craved acknowledgment, craved someone looking him in the eye and saying, ¡°You did well.¡± The door to the office swung open, and Leo Zam strode in, his eyes sweeping the room with the precision of a hawk. Daniel felt his chest tighten instinctively, his muscles bracing for impact. But Leo¡¯s gaze passed over him without a flicker of recognition, as though he were nothing more than a piece of office furniture. Instead, Leo¡¯s eyes landed on Ray, who was in the middle of a conversation with Graham. A smile ¡ª that rare, disarming smile ¡ª curled at the edges of Leo¡¯s mouth. ¡°Ray,¡± Leo said, his voice carrying easily across the room, ¡°heard the network upgrade was a success. Well done.¡± Ray nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. ¡°Yeah, everything¡¯s running perfectly now.¡± Daniel¡¯s jaw tightened. The words were like a slap, the sting of stolen credit burning hotter than he expected. His fingers curled into a fist under his desk. The quiet thrill of his achievement evaporated, replaced by that old, gnawing resentment. Of course. Ray gets the thanks, the approval. I get¡­ nothing. His vision blurred slightly as anger welled up, sharp and bitter. He took a slow breath, trying to unclench his fists, to push the fury down where it couldn¡¯t consume him. But the whisper in his mind grew louder. You changed the network. You upgraded your laptop. You can change things. A dangerous idea took root, twisting through his thoughts. If the system refused to acknowledge his worth, maybe it was time to stop playing by its rules. His eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of determination cutting through the frustration. He wasn¡¯t powerless. He wasn¡¯t invisible. And maybe it was time to show them ¡ª to show everyone ¡ª exactly what he was capable of. On my terms, he thought, his heart pounding with quiet resolve. No more waiting. No more hoping. They¡¯re going to see me, whether they want to or not. Daniel shut down his workstation for the day, the screen going dark with a faint hum. The office was dimming with the onset of evening, a few scattered workers finishing up last-minute tasks. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned toward the exit, ready to escape the suffocating weight of the office. Ray had already left, leaving just him and Graham in the section. Graham was at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, his face relaxed as he focused on his task. Just as Daniel was about to step out, the door opened, and Leo Zam walked in, a broad smile plastered across his face. The shift in his demeanor was jarring ¡ª the cold, judgmental expression was gone, replaced by warmth that seemed reserved only for a select few. His eyes locked onto Graham, completely bypassing Daniel. ¡°Graham!¡± Leo¡¯s voice was rich with enthusiasm. ¡°You got a minute?¡± Graham¡¯s fingers paused mid-keystroke. He leaned back, giving Leo a casual grin. ¡°Yeah, sure. What¡¯s up?¡± Leo¡¯s smile widened, and he clapped a hand on Graham¡¯s shoulder, the gesture one of genuine camaraderie. ¡°You did an incredible job with that network upgrade yesterday. I knew it ¡ª I always knew you were the hero of the IT section. The whole office is talking about how smooth everything¡¯s running now. Couldn¡¯t have done it without you.¡± Daniel¡¯s breath caught in his chest. The words sliced through him like a blade. The warmth in Leo¡¯s voice, the casual praise, the acknowledgment ¡ª all of it was for Graham. His fists clenched at his sides as his pulse quickened. That was my work. He wanted to scream it, to shove the truth in Leo¡¯s face, to tear down the facade that had been built around him. But his mouth stayed shut, locked by the same invisible force that had always kept him silent. Graham chuckled, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Thanks, Leo. Just doing my job, you know?¡± Leo¡¯s grin didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Nah, you went above and beyond, and we¡¯re going to celebrate that. I¡¯m taking you, Ray, and Joe out to dinner tonight. My treat. You earned it.¡± Daniel felt the floor tilt beneath him. His heart thudded painfully as he watched Leo and Graham laugh, their conversation carrying the easy flow of people who belonged ¡ª who mattered. The room around him blurred, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. He stood there, invisible, insignificant. Leo hadn¡¯t even glanced at him. To Leo, he wasn¡¯t there. He was nothing more than a piece of the office furniture. The weight of it all pressed down on him. He sank back into his chair, his hands sliding up to cradle his head. The muted voices of Leo and Graham faded into a dull roar in his ears. Why? The question seared through his mind. Why am I still here? Why do I keep putting myself through this? His vision sharpened through the haze of frustration, and a cold resolve took root. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. He had given everything to this place, worked tirelessly, improved the system ¡ª and still, they dismissed him. Still, they ignored him. Fine. If they won¡¯t see me now, I¡¯ll make sure they regret it later. A plan crystallized in his mind, sharp and clear. He would leave, but not quietly. He would make Leo, Graham, Ray, all of them realize what they had lost. He would show them the cost of their neglect, the consequence of their favoritism. He wouldn¡¯t just fade into obscurity; he would make an impact that reverberated long after he was gone. Leo¡¯s laughter rang out as he and Graham left the office, the door swinging shut behind them. Daniel sat up slowly, his eyes narrowed, his hands dropping to his sides. The bitterness still clung to him, but beneath it, a spark of determination flared to life. He wasn¡¯t beaten. Not yet. 5. Void of Recognition Chapter 5 The next morning, Daniel trudged into the office, his shoes soaked from the rain that still pelted down relentlessly. The one-hour delay had done little to ease his mood, though the faint scent of wet asphalt and coffee lingered in the air. As he shook out his damp jacket, he caught sight of Ray and Joe huddled near Ray¡¯s desk, their expressions grim and tense. Ray was speaking in a low, urgent voice. ¡°It¡¯s the Chief Director¡¯s computer. The motherboard¡¯s fried beyond repair. We¡¯re in deep if this isn¡¯t fixed soon.¡± Daniel¡¯s ears perked up at the mention of Chief Director Michael, the highest authority in the building. He hadn¡¯t even settled into his seat before his curiosity got the better of him. He approached cautiously, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked Ray. Ray glanced up, his forehead creased with worry. ¡°Chief Director Michael¡¯s system crashed. Motherboard damage. We¡¯re talking complete breakdown.¡± Joe sighed, shaking his head. ¡°This isn¡¯t just any computer. If we don¡¯t fix it today, it¡¯s going to be hell for everyone.¡± A surge of confidence bubbled up in Daniel, pushing aside the usual apprehension. He took a steady breath and looked directly at Ray. ¡°Leave it to me. I¡¯ve got this.¡± Ray¡¯s eyes searched Daniel¡¯s face for a moment, doubt lingering before he finally nodded. ¡°Alright, it¡¯s all yours.¡± Daniel grabbed the CPU from Ray¡¯s desk and carried it to the workbench ¡ª a long, sturdy table scattered with tools for repairs: screwdrivers, pliers, thermal paste, and dust blowers. The hum of the office seemed to fade as he set the CPU down, his hands steady and purposeful. Ray and Joe returned to their workstations, their chairs squeaking softly as they settled back down. Daniel waited until they were engrossed in their tasks before he closed his eyes for a brief second, focusing. I want this CPU to be faster. I want it to be completely repaired. That strange warmth surged through his fingertips, a pulse of energy he¡¯d come to recognize. He felt the change ripple through the machine, subtle but unmistakable. When he opened his eyes, the CPU sat there, looking no different, but he knew it had worked. He was about to test the system when the door swung open, and Leo Zam walked in. The usual arrogance was absent, replaced by something Daniel hadn¡¯t seen before ¡ª genuine worry. Leo¡¯s eyes landed on him immediately. ¡°Is it done?¡± Leo¡¯s voice was edged with urgency, but his expression was a stone wall. No hint of kindness, no trace of respect. Daniel straightened up, masking his own irritation. ¡°I¡¯m just about to test it.¡± Leo folded his arms, his gaze cold and unwavering. He didn¡¯t say anything, just stood there, watching as if waiting for Daniel to fail. Daniel swallowed his frustration and methodically connected the cables, attaching the monitor and peripherals with practiced ease. His fingers lingered over the power button for a moment before pressing it. The monitor flickered to life. The computer booted up in less than five seconds ¡ª a speed that even high-end systems rarely achieved. The screen glowed, the desktop ready and waiting. It was flawless. Daniel turned to Leo, a flicker of pride in his eyes, but Leo¡¯s face remained impassive. The worry had vanished, but no relief, no appreciation took its place. Just the same indifferent mask he always wore around Daniel. ¡°Take it to Chief Director Michael¡¯s office,¡± Leo said flatly, his tone devoid of warmth. He turned on his heel, dismissing Daniel without another word. A weight settled in Daniel¡¯s chest, his heart sinking like a stone. No thanks. No acknowledgment. Just a cold command, like he was a tool ¡ª a cog in the machine. He lifted the CPU, his muscles tightening with frustration, and carried it down the hall to Chief Director Michael¡¯s office. The room was empty when he arrived, the faint scent of leather and polished wood lingering in the air. Carefully, he set the CPU down and began assembling the entire system: the monitor, the keyboard, the mouse. Each piece clicked into place with precision. As the final cable snapped in, he paused, his reflection staring back at him from the dark screen. His thoughts circled around Leo¡¯s expression ¡ª that blank, dismissive look that refused to recognize his effort. His jaw tightened. It didn¡¯t matter how hard he worked, how much he fixed, or how well he performed. Leo wouldn¡¯t see it. He wouldn¡¯t see him. But Daniel¡¯s resolve hardened. He was done hoping for Leo¡¯s approval. He was done being invisible. You won¡¯t ignore me forever, he thought, a spark of determination igniting in his chest. I¡¯ll make sure of it. When Daniel returned to his section, he paused just before reaching his desk. Ray and Graham were locked in a tense conversation, Ray¡¯s brow furrowed in irritation while Graham wore his usual nonchalant expression. The hushed intensity of their exchange was unmistakable. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting on these evaluations for weeks, Graham,¡± Ray said, his voice clipped. ¡°You need to get them done. This is dragging the whole section down.¡± Graham leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lazily on the armrest. ¡°I¡¯ll get to it, Ray. There¡¯s just a lot on my plate right now.¡± Daniel shook his head as he slid into his chair. He¡¯d seen this too many times. Graham¡¯s habit of shirking responsibilities was an open secret in the office. The guy knew how to dodge work and still come out looking good ¡ª especially with Leo in his corner. As Ray opened his mouth to press the issue further, the door swung open. Leo Zam stepped in, his face lighting up with a positive expression ¡ª until he registered the tension in the room. The shift in his demeanor was almost instantaneous. His eyes narrowed slightly, his mouth setting into a thin line of disapproval.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Daniel¡¯s stomach sank. He knew that look all too well. Leo had overheard enough to form his own biased conclusion. Leo walked up to Ray and Graham, his voice a controlled calm. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± Ray hesitated, his lips thinning before he finally spoke. ¡°Graham¡¯s evaluations are overdue. I¡¯ve been trying to get him to finish them, but it¡¯s taking too long.¡± Leo¡¯s eyes flicked between Ray and Graham. The irritation Daniel had hoped to see directed at Graham never came. Instead, Leo¡¯s face softened, his tone dropping into something close to reassurance. ¡°Ray,¡± Leo said, his voice smooth and patronizing, ¡°take it easy on Graham, will you? He¡¯s been handling a lot for the section. He¡¯s got more on his plate than most people realize.¡± Ray¡¯s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing, his eyes dropping to his desk as he settled back into his chair with a resigned sigh. Daniel could see the frustration simmering beneath Ray¡¯s stoic expression. Leo turned to Graham, and the difference in his tone was palpable. ¡°Just try to get those evaluations done as soon as you can, alright?¡± he said warmly, a soft smile curving his lips. The kind of smile Daniel had never once seen directed at him. Graham nodded, the casual grin still on his face. ¡°Sure thing, Leo. I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± Daniel clenched his jaw, his fists balling under his desk. The blatant favoritism was sickening, the double standard glaringly obvious. Graham, the habitual slacker, was coddled and praised, while his own hard work was dismissed or stolen. A bitter thought crept into his mind: It doesn¡¯t matter what I do here. Leo has his favorites, and I¡¯ll never be one of them. The frustration churned in his chest, a swirling vortex of anger and disbelief. He could feel the injustice of it gnawing at the edges of his resolve, but he forced himself to breathe slowly, to stay calm. He wouldn¡¯t let them see him break. As Leo and Graham exchanged a few more pleasantries, Daniel stared at his screen, the words blurring before his eyes. His mind buzzed with a singular, burning determination: This won¡¯t last forever. They can ignore me now, but one day, they¡¯ll know exactly what they lost. And when that day came, Daniel intended to be far, far away from this suffocating office, where his worth would be finally seen ¡ª not dismissed. After Leo finished his idle conversation with Graham, he drifted toward Ray, his demeanor shifting once more into that casual, almost jovial air he reserved for his select few. Their voices floated through the section ¡ª talk of the upcoming monthly staff meeting, half-hearted remarks about company goals, sprinkled with gossip about employees Daniel barely knew. It was the kind of conversation that carved an even deeper divide between those who belonged and those who didn¡¯t. Daniel kept his head down, pretending to focus on his screen, his mind far away from the chatter. His fingers curled slightly, the keyboard¡¯s plastic edges digging into his skin. It was as though the office existed in two different realities: one where effort and respect flowed freely, and another where his own contributions vanished like smoke. Half an hour later, Leo finally left the section, the door closing behind him with a muted click. The air seemed to lose some of its oppressive weight. Ray turned in his chair, his gaze settling on Daniel. ¡°Hey, Daniel.¡± Daniel straightened, meeting Ray¡¯s eyes, his expression neutral. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°I need you to prep some specs for a camera for the Media Unit,¡± Ray said, his tone businesslike. ¡°I¡¯ve sent you a link to a model that I think will work best. Put together the specifications and send it back to me for review.¡± Daniel nodded. ¡°Got it.¡± The email pinged in his inbox ¡ª the link to the camera, a few rough notes from Ray, and a vague outline of what was needed. A task that would normally take a solid hour of research and meticulous detail. But Daniel no longer played by those rules. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes for a brief moment. I want this done, perfect and complete. That warmth surged through his fingertips, a subtle but certain pulse of energy. When he opened his eyes, the screen was filled with a perfectly formatted specification sheet ¡ª details laid out with precision, covering every requirement Ray could possibly need. It was thorough, polished, and beyond anything a rushed hour of work could produce. He clicked Send and leaned back in his chair, waiting. A minute later, Ray¡¯s voice rose above the hum of the office. ¡°Nice work, Daniel. This is exactly what I needed.¡± He held up the stamped approval sheet. ¡°Take this to the Media Unit.¡± For the first time in what felt like forever, Daniel heard it ¡ª a genuine note of appreciation. Just a simple acknowledgment of his work, but one that pierced through the endless fog of disregard. He stood up, took the sheet from Ray¡¯s outstretched hand, and gave a curt nod. ¡°Thanks.¡± He walked toward the Media Unit¡¯s office, the stamped paper firm in his grip. The praise, the recognition ¡ª it was what he had craved for so long. But as he moved through the hallways, the weight in his chest didn¡¯t lift. The hollow satisfaction of that one fleeting compliment only highlighted how starved he had been for basic respect. One time. That was it. A single moment of acknowledgment, after months ¡ª years ¡ª of being overlooked and dismissed. It was too late. The decision had already settled deep within him, as solid and immovable as stone. He would leave this place, leave the suffocating walls of this office and the poisoned hierarchy that held him down. He had more to offer, more to achieve, and he wasn¡¯t going to waste another second where his worth was an afterthought. As he handed off the paper to the Media Unit, he felt a calm resolve take hold. This wasn¡¯t defeat; this was freedom. His plan was in motion. His escape was on the horizon. Nothing ¡ª no fleeting praise, no temporary relief ¡ª would keep him here. Daniel handed the stamped specification sheet to Rog Brown, the head of the Media Unit. Rog took the paper with a warm smile, his eyes filled with genuine gratitude. ¡°Thanks for the quick turnaround, Daniel,¡± Rog said, his voice sincere. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you managed to finish this so fast, but you¡¯ve saved us a lot of time. I wish the rest of the IT section had your efficiency and attitude.¡± Daniel felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. Rog had always been that way ¡ª respectful, appreciative, and fair. Even before Daniel¡¯s strange abilities had given him an edge, Rog was one of the few who saw his hard work and treated him with dignity. In a sea of indifference and hostility, Rog had been an anchor of decency. ¡°Anytime, Rog,¡± Daniel replied, his voice steady. ¡°I appreciate it.¡± Rog nodded, his expression softening. ¡°Keep up the good work, Daniel. People notice, even if they don¡¯t always say it.¡± Daniel¡¯s lips curled into a small, genuine smile. Those words, simple as they were, held more weight than any praise he¡¯d received in the IT section. It was nice to be seen ¡ª really seen ¡ª even if it was just by one person. He turned and walked back to the IT section, his footsteps lighter, though the weight of his decision to leave hadn¡¯t lifted. Rog¡¯s acknowledgment was meaningful, but it wasn¡¯t enough to outweigh the toxic environment he endured daily. The office was the same as he left it. Ray and Joe were focused on their screens, Graham was half-heartedly typing, and the hum of the computers, mixed in with servers filled the background. Daniel slid into his chair, the familiar stiffness of the seat barely registering. 6. The Ultimatum Chapter 6 Daniel glanced at the clock. Two more hours until the end of the workday. Two more hours of trudging through tasks, of being invisible to everyone who mattered in this section. Daniel leaned back, his eyes scanning the sterile office space, the flickering lights, and the dull gray walls. He stayed quiet, his mind swirling with thoughts of escape, of freedom, of a life where his worth wasn¡¯t dictated by the biases of others. He waited patiently, his fingers drumming softly on the desk. The minutes crawled by, but his resolve didn¡¯t waver. Each tick of the clock brought him closer to leaving this place behind. As the final seconds of the workday approached, Daniel took a deep breath. He had endured another day. But soon, he wouldn¡¯t have to endure any longer. Soon, this chapter would close. Daniel¡¯s footsteps were slow and measured as he left the office, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin. His bag hung heavily on his shoulder, but the real weight pressing down on him was the simmering resentment he kept buried deep. Each day he stayed, each moment he endured the suffocating unfairness, was fuel for the fire of his determination. They think they can function without me? The thought pulsed through his mind, cold and sharp. They¡¯ll see soon enough. He wandered into a nearby park, the soft glow of lampposts casting long shadows across the pathways. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and clean. Daniel sank onto a bench facing a small pond, the surface of the water still rippling from the earlier rain. The park¡¯s beauty was a stark contrast to the gray monotony of the office. It was quiet here, peaceful ¡ª a place where he could think clearly. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped together tightly. His mind spun with plans. He didn¡¯t want to leave quietly. When he walked out of that office for the last time, he wanted his absence to hurt. He wanted them to realize how much they depended on him, how much they had taken his work for granted. Graham¡¯s laziness. Joe¡¯s indifference. Leo¡¯s blatant favoritism. Ray¡¯s blind reliance on him. They were all part of the system that had failed him. He would make them feel the loss, the chaos his departure would cause. As he visualized it, his phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He pulled it out and saw a message from Ray: Ray: ¡°Hey Daniel, need you to prep the meeting room on the first floor for Leo¡¯s meeting tomorrow.¡± Daniel¡¯s jaw clenched. The familiar surge of frustration bubbled up, hot and relentless. Of course. It was always him. Ray didn¡¯t ask Graham. Didn¡¯t ask Joe. It was always Daniel who got the off-hours work dumped on him, as if his time didn¡¯t matter, as if he existed solely to serve the whims of the office. He stared at the message for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. The old, compliant part of him wanted to just say yes, to get it over with, to avoid another confrontation. But the fire inside him ¡ª the fire that had been growing stronger with every slight, every moment of disrespect ¡ª refused to let him give in. Not this time. He typed his response, the words flowing easily. Daniel: ¡°Sorry, Ray. I¡¯m too busy. Ask Graham or Joe.¡± He hit send and let the satisfaction wash over him. It was a small act of defiance, but it felt monumental. For once, he was saying no. For once, he was putting the responsibility back where it belonged. He leaned back on the bench, the cool air filling his lungs. The ripples on the pond calmed, reflecting the faint glow of the evening sky. He knew there would be pushback ¡ª Ray would probably grumble, maybe even give him another passive-aggressive comment the next day. But Daniel didn¡¯t care. He was done being the office¡¯s default doormat. As he pocketed his phone, a slow, determined smile spread across his face. He wasn¡¯t just planning his exit; he was laying the groundwork for them to feel his absence. Every refusal, every boundary he asserted, was another crack in the illusion that they could treat him like he was replaceable. They won¡¯t see it coming, he thought. But they¡¯ll feel it when I¡¯m gone. And when that day arrived, it wouldn¡¯t just be Daniel leaving the office. It would be the foundation of their false stability crumbling beneath them. As Daniel sat on the bench, the cold air nipping at his fingers, a spark of inspiration ignited in his mind. The gears of his frustration and determination clicked into place, forming a clear, potent idea. What if I develop all the web portals the office needs myself? The thought pulsed through him, electrifying. He knew the company paid millions to external developers for the portals ¡ª tools and systems that were essential for various departments. If he could design them internally, the savings would be monumental. Not only that, but it would make him indispensable, a linchpin holding their operations together. His demand within the office would skyrocket. They¡¯d have no choice but to recognize my value. No choice but to regret every moment they ignored me.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The idea expanded, his mind whirring with possibilities. He could develop streamlined, efficient portals ¡ª faster, more secure, and customized to the company¡¯s exact needs. He had the skills, and with his new abilities, the work would be done in record time. He¡¯d save the company millions, and they would realize that losing him wasn¡¯t just a blow ¡ª it was a catastrophe. A slow, determined smile curled his lips. This was it. The perfect plan. With the idea firmly planted, Daniel stood up, his resolve solid. He took one last look at the quiet serenity of the park before heading home, a renewed sense of purpose fueling his steps. Back in his apartment, he dropped his bag by the door and stretched out the tension in his shoulders. His laptop sat on his desk, the faint hum of electronics greeting him like an old friend. But before he dove into work, he needed a break ¡ª something to clear his mind, to let the idea settle. He booted up CS:GO, the familiar logo flickering onto the screen. The rapid clicks of his mouse and the adrenaline rush of the game washed over him, pushing the day¡¯s frustrations to the back of his mind. His movements were precise, each headshot satisfying in a way that felt almost therapeutic. As he played, his mind sharpened, focused. The plan was there, waiting patiently beneath the surface. When he was ready, he would begin. He¡¯d develop the portals. He¡¯d make himself irreplaceable. And when the time came, he¡¯d walk away on his terms, leaving behind a hole they couldn¡¯t fill. But for now, he lost himself in the game, the flicker of the screen casting shadows across his determined face. Let them underestimate me, he thought. They won¡¯t see what¡¯s coming. Hours went by as Daniel sunk all of his time to playing CS: GO. The glow of the monitor faded as Daniel shut down his laptop, the thrill of victory in CS:GO still tingling through his fingertips. The digital clock on his desk read 2:47 AM, the numbers glowing faintly in the darkness of his room. He rubbed his eyes, a wave of exhaustion finally catching up to him. With a deep sigh, he shuffled to his bed and sank into the mattress, the sheets cool against his skin. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away, replaced by the heavy pull of fatigue. As his head settled into the pillow, his mind buzzed with the plan he¡¯d forged in the quiet corners of his determination. Just a few more days. The thought circled like a mantra, steady and resolute. He could already see it ¡ª the looks on their faces when he handed in his resignation. The confusion, the dawning realization of how much they had depended on him, how they had taken his skills for granted. He imagined Leo¡¯s face paling, Ray¡¯s stammering disbelief, and the ripple of panic through the office as they finally understood what they were losing. Would they plead for him to stay? Would they offer him promotions, better treatment, promises of change? The idea filled him with a quiet satisfaction, the kind that smoothed out the rough edges of his resentment. He didn¡¯t know what would come next, but for once, he didn¡¯t care. He was ready to take that leap, to free himself from the chains of their indifference. They need me more than I need them, he thought, his eyelids growing heavy. And soon, they¡¯ll know it. The weight of his plan wrapped around him like a cocoon, protective and sure. His breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The noise of the day faded, and the last flickers of consciousness slipped away. As Daniel drifted into sleep, a calm, defiant smile curled his lips. The countdown to his freedom had begun, and nothing was going to hold him back. The next day, Daniel entered the IT section, his footsteps muffled by the sterile carpet. The room was eerily quiet, the empty chairs and silent computers giving it a ghostly feel. He exhaled slowly, the stillness wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. Sliding into his chair, he booted up his computer, the hum of the system filling the void. The weight of his looming departure felt lighter today. He leaned back and clicked over to YouTube, immersing himself in Minecraft videos ¡ª world-building tutorials, survival challenges, redstone contraptions. The bright pixelated landscapes offered a much-needed escape. Minutes blurred into hours, the rhythmic click of his mouse the only sound in the room. For once, he allowed himself to relax, to exist without the gnawing weight of expectation. The door creaked open abruptly, breaking the trance. Daniel looked up to see Ray walk in, his brow creased with worry. Hot on his heels was Chief Director Michael, a tall figure exuding authority with every step. His sharp gaze swept over the room, landing on Daniel for a brief moment. The expression on his face was unreadable ¡ª neither approval nor disdain ¡ª just a blank, appraising look. Without a word to Daniel, Chief Director Michael sat down next to Ray, the air in the room instantly tightening with tension. ¡°Ray,¡± the Chief Director began, his tone clipped and businesslike, ¡°we need to address the file server storage. It¡¯s falling behind our needs. Double the capacity as soon as possible.¡± Ray nodded quickly, his fingers tapping nervously on his desk. ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯ll make it happen.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care how you do it,¡± Chief Director Michael continued, his voice firm, ¡°but we can¡¯t afford any delays. Make it a priority.¡± The discussion dragged on, technical jargon and logistical challenges bouncing between them. Daniel watched quietly, his eyes flicking between Ray¡¯s increasingly anxious expression and the confident, unwavering demeanor of the Chief Director. Eventually, Chief Director Michael stood up, straightening his jacket. ¡°I expect results by the end of the week, Ray. Don¡¯t let this slip.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Ray replied, his voice tight. With a curt nod, Chief Director Michael exited the room, the door closing with a soft thud. The silence that followed was thick with tension. Ray¡¯s shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes darting to his screen, already calculating how to meet the impossible deadline. His fingers tapped restlessly on his desk, his jaw clenched. Daniel leaned back, a slow smile forming. So now it¡¯s Ray¡¯s turn to feel the pressure. Watching Ray sweat over the storage upgrade filled him with a quiet sense of pride ¡ª not out of malice, but from knowing the weight that had so often been dumped on him was now someone else¡¯s burden. For so long, he had carried these tasks silently, shouldering the stress while others took the credit. Now, they would see how heavy that load truly was. He crossed his arms, his gaze steady. Let them struggle. Let them realize how much they relied on me. Ray rubbed his forehead, his frustration clear, but Daniel stayed silent, letting the quiet satisfaction wash over him. This was just the beginning ¡ª the cracks were forming, and soon, they¡¯d realize just how much they needed him. But by then, it would be too late.