Three days had passed since Raen bought his ticket into the Bytecrashers competition.
He used them carefully.
Day One: Recovery
He slept—long and deep. His body, used to 18-hour days of screen-time and freelancing burnout, welcomed the stillness. For once, he didn't wake up to a buzzing inbox or rent notice. Just silence.
He ate well, showered like he meant it, and reminded himself: "I'll win this damn thing."
Day Two: Reality Check
Ambition was one thing. Survival, another.
Rent was still due. His kitchen had enough food for one day. So he took on two quick freelance gigs—a bug patch and a template rebuild. Ten hours later, with a sore neck and numb fingers, he checked his balance:
[+1,700 Lux]
Enough for groceries and rent. He ordered proper food, filled the shelf with rice, soy, and dried veggies.
He looked out the window and muttered, "Alright. One more day."
Day Three: Rules and Panic
Raen had planned to prepare.
He was reading through the competition brief again when a new message appeared:
BYTECRASHERS 7.0 — FINAL ROUNDChallenge: Design a Personal AI AssistantCapable of learning user preferences, handling tasks, interpreting natural commands.No pre-trained models allowed.All builds must be original.
Note: Finalists must attend in person at the HexaGrid Development Center.No remote entries will be accepted.Check-in closes: 9:30 AM sharp
Raen's stomach dropped.
"No remote?"
He looked at his desktop tower. Beastly specs. Zero mobility.
He didn't own a laptop. Never needed one. Freelancing from home made that a luxury he couldn't afford.
He opened his dev group chat, hoping for a miracle:
[Raen]:Anyone got a dev laptop I can borrow for Bytecrashers? Urgent. Will pay.
Meme replies. A gif of someone cooking their PC.
Then one real response.
[Kane]:You still owe me for that busted host setup last year.But I'll loan you mine. 100 Lux. Bring it back clean.Any damage and you're paying triple.
Raen groaned but agreed. He didn't have options.
[Balance: 1,602 Lux] → [1,502 Lux]
Gone. Again.
Later that night, Kane handed him the laptop in a greasy ramen shop. It was scratched, duct-taped at the hinge, but the specs were good enough.
He set it up with his environment, transferred his frameworks, and opened a new project window.
Project Title:VoxFrame Core
This wasn't going to be easy.
But the prize?
First Place: 100,000 Lux
"I could buy a tiny apartment in South Block for that," he muttered. "No more month-to-month leases. No more begging clients to release payments. No more canned beans and budget noodles."
He leaned back and grinned.
Then the grin faded as the weight of it all settled in.
He had one shot.
Tomorrow, it would begin.