Genius Academy

Liam leaned back in his chair, staring at the glowing blueprint projected in front of him. ORION had completed the Genius Academy interface. The design was elegant. Smooth lines, soft colors, and an adaptive structure that could run on any device. Even old, barely functioning ones.

He tapped the screen.

A simulation launched.

A young boy appeared—about thirteen years old. He was from a remote mountain village in the eastern province of Korril, where old roads still cracked and tech was scarce. The simulation tracked his worn-out tablet, laggy connection, and low battery. But ORION adjusted automatically.

The screen showed the boy's first lesson.

Math.

The AI tutor greeted him kindly. No robotic tone. Just warmth and patience. The boy fumbled through the first few questions. Got most of them wrong.

The AI shifted approach.

It showed a simple animation using apples, coins, and silly characters. The boy's expression changed—confusion fading into understanding.

Then came a smile.

Liam watched it all, silent.

"ORION," he said, "track emotional responses. Add micro-expression monitoring. If a student starts to stress out or lose focus, change the teaching style. Be flexible."

"Confirmed. Feature added," ORION replied.

"And add personality presets. Some students like chill tutors. Some like funny ones. Let them choose."

"Done."

"Make the whole platform free."

"There will be server and data costs. Estimated 3.1 million credits per day."

"I'll pay for it."

"Confirmed. Switching platform to free access model."

Liam stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse suite. The skyline of Blackwood, the capital of the region, was glowing. Neon signs floated in the sky. Aircars buzzed above crystal towers. Digital billboards looped his face on every third panel.

But none of that mattered now.

This wasn't about fame.

It was about that kid in Korril.

And millions more like him.

He'd been overlooked before. Buried in systems that didn't care. Now, he was building a system that would never let anyone get left behind again.

A knock echoed on the glass door.

Jax stepped in, holding a tablet. "Boss. Education leaders from three sectors want to talk. Kothen, Eldra, and Sairis. Should I book the meeting?"

Liam nodded. "Tomorrow. Morning. Make it quick."

Jax paused. "Also… there's some weird buzz. Your name's trending again. 'Liam Miller true identity.'"

"Why?"

"Anne Lain posted a vague message on her social. Something like, 'He was in front of me all along. I just never looked.' Now everyone's speculating. Some already linked your current photo to your old university records."

Liam didn't even turn around.

"Let them. Doesn't matter."

"She might be reaching out soon."

"She's just late."

Jax gave a slow nod and left.

That night, Liam activated the Genius Academy soft launch.

No banners. No press. No influencers.

Just a quiet link on the Aetherium main page.

Within the first hour, over 1.4 million students had joined.

Liam watched the live map update.

Kids from the coastal towns of Varnith.

Students from the fog-covered hills of Drydenreach.

Teens learning from worn-out devices in old shacks in Eruvas.

Children sharing a single tablet under streetlamps in Marrovia.

It was working.

And it was beautiful.

His system pinged:

[Side Quest Progress: Revolutionize Education – 1,421,119 Students Impacted]

Reputation +14,211

He sat there in silence, watching the numbers climb.

He didn't smile.

But something in his chest felt… lighter.

The next morning, Liam sat in the private Aetherium conference suite. The room was quiet, the walls shifting colors based on mood. A curved screen showed four live feeds—leaders from education sectors across different regions.

They looked tired. And impressed.

"Mr. Miller," one began, "we've never seen a platform gain traction this fast. Our schools have already begun using Genius Academy, even before our departments could approve it."

"We'd like to discuss licensing," another said. "Integration. Government partnerships."

Liam shook his head. "No licensing. No payments. Use it. That's it."

A pause.

"You're offering this to entire sectors. For free?"

"Correct."

One of the delegates frowned slightly. "But why?"

Liam looked directly at the screen.

"Because no one helped me. And I know what it feels like to fall behind. Genius Academy is the hand I never had."

The room went quiet.

Then slowly, each of them nodded.

"We'll begin immediate integration."

Liam stood and left the room without a word.

He wasn't here to talk.

He was here to build.

ORION buzzed in his ear. "At current growth rate, Genius Academy will hit 30 million students in three days. Should I begin planning physical locations?"

"Yes," Liam said. "Call them Genius Hubs. Real buildings. Safe, modern, with food, tablets, VR, study pods. Start in underserved areas."

"Confirmed. Blueprint generation in progress."

Later that day, Liam stood on his rooftop garden.

It was quiet up here.

Virelia looked peaceful from above.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Jax.

"Genius Academy just got nominated for the Unity Circle Prize."

He ignored it.

Across the world, video clips of Genius Academy flooded the net.

Kids solving math problems in dusty fields.

A blind girl learning history through audio guides.

A teenager building his first robot using Liam's free tech kits.

Teachers crying in joy, watching their students finally understand.

One clip showed a boy holding his broken tablet and whispering, "Thank you, Liam."

It went viral.

Liam didn't even post about it.

He just watched.

In a quiet part of Sarellin District, Anne sat in her high-rise apartment watching the same clip.

She replayed it five times.

She didn't cry. She couldn't.

But her chest felt like it was sinking.

That used to be the guy she left behind.

Now?

He was the guy the world was looking up to.

She stared at his public profile.

She hovered over the "Follow" button.

But she didn't press it.

Because following him now would feel like a confession.

And she wasn't ready to admit it yet.

That the man she ignored…

…had become someone no one could ignore anymore.