First Big Win
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The first round begun, but nothing exciting happened right away. Both fighters circled each other, slow and careful, waiting for the other to make the first move.
A few feints were thrown, but they never committed.
If he was being honest, it felt more like a warm-up than a real fight.
He understood it, though. They were being cautious, measuring each other's timing and reach, playing it safe.
Regardless, for anyone watching, it was a dragged. No one came here to see people walk in circles.
But by the second round, the champion began to take some of of the momentum little by little. It was still anyone's fight, though, until the fifth round.
The challenger slipped and fell. It wasn't really a knockout. Even so, it shook his confidence.
By the sixth round, the challenger appeared off balance, moving slower and throwing weaker punches.
The champion noticed and started pressing harder. Each blow landed with more force, and the challenger was struggling to keep up.
As the seventh round started, the crowd was on edge, sensing that the end was near. The champion's fists were like sledgehammers, and every hit looked like it could end the fight.
Then it happened.
In the ninth round, the challenger took a clean shot to the chin. His legs gave out, and he collapsed on the canvas. The referee started counting.
"10"
"9"
"8"
'Stand up!' he urged, gripping his seat.
He didn't just bet on who would win—he chose the exact way the fight would end.
If the challenger got knocked out too early, he would lose. Every second now felt like a countdown to bankruptcy.
Fortunately, the challenger's willpower kept him going.
'That's right. Show some grit, man! You're gonna need that in December!'
The challenger barely got through the ninth round. His legs were weak, and his hands kept dropping.
He looked like he was about to fall at any moment. When the bell rang, it was clear he didn't have much left.
Then the tenth round started.
Walking out of his corner, the challenger looked drained. His guard was loose, movements sluggish.
The champion saw it right away. He closed the distance and slammed a hard left hook to the liver
The challenger bent over, gasping.
Before the poor guy could recover, a clean uppercut snapped his head back.
Then, to finish it off, the champion drove a straight punch right into his nose.
Three hits. That was all it took. The challenger dropped to the mat and didn't get back up.
'I'm a millionaire now!' he raised his hand in victory.
The rush of multiplying his money that fast was exciting. His brain lit up, flooded with dopamine.
After he calmed down and did a little victory dance, he sat back in his chair and checked the betting websites.
It would take a couple of hours for all his winnings to hit his account, but he'd already estimated that he would walked away with over $1,900,000.
While waiting, he started doing some breathing exercises again. He wanted to take advantage of his good mood to increase his energy intake.
Studies in his past life revealed that dopamine levels and other happiness-related chemicals actually boosted mana absorption by up to 80%.
That's why it was the norm for strong Manaborns to keep track of their mental health—because a clear mind meant better energy flow and utilization.
A couple of hours later, more cash started pouring in, and this time he didn't just invest in one.
He also bought Kitcoin, cautious that putting all his money into one currency might speed up the risk of a rug-pull.
The more he took bold actions, the greater the chance of a butterfly effect happening.
As a result, his knowledge of the future would become less and less accurate.
'So I now have 1.3 million in Octocoin, 500K in Kitcoin, and 150K in reserved,'
A grin slowly spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair, letting the numbers sink in.
'Maybe it's time to move out,' he thought. 'Start fresh. Live on my own, without anyone looking over my shoulder.'
It wasn't that he hated being here. It was more about the need for freedom—freedom to move around.
Though Effie was very understanding, there would come times when he would need to do things that were … not exactly normal.
However, he couldn't shake the thought that leaving her without understanding the problem with his uncle would leave him restless. He needed to figure it out first.
'Forget it, I'll just think about it after I wake up,'
He glanced one last time at the clock, then closed his PC, deciding that rest would do him more good than any more late-night decisions.
Tomorrow would come with its own set of problems. But for tonight, he needed to sleep.
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It was already 8:00 AM when he woke up. His first priority was to check his PC, making sure he didn't just dreamed about all his winnings from yesterday.
And there it was—his money, actually up in value.
Overall, he has $2,000,000. This was the power of exponential growth. The more money he invested, the more he earned with each price increased.
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
Hearing the sound, he stood up and went to open the door. It was his beautiful aunt, looking like she just showered, her hair still damp and fresh.
She held a tray of food for breakfast.
But this time, it was more special.
On it, there was a stack of fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, crispy bacon on the side, a bowl of fresh fruit—strawberries, blueberries, and sliced bananas—and a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee.
"Happy Birthday, Terrence," she said, giving him a warm smile as she set the tray down in front of him.
"Thanks, Aunt Effie. Can't believe I'm an adult now." He chuckled, intentionally emphasizing the word "adult."
"That's right, you're an adult now…" She trailed off, watching his face a little longer than normal.
"Aunt Effie… I—" He almost said something ridiculous but managed to stop himself just in time.
He cleared his throat. "How about dinner tonight? Somewhere nice. My treat?"