Three days later, Leon Daniel Vas stood on the balcony of his Los Angeles home, the morning fog clinging to the hills like a shroud. The sun was beginning to burn through it, just as Athena was slowly burning through the veil of global ignorance.
His terminal pinged.
SYSTEM: AthenaLite Beta Complete
SP Earned: +8,920
New Device Activations: +4,122
Current Balance: 134,242 SP
He took a sip of water and walked inside. The living room lights came on as he entered—Leon had rewired the smart system himself, discarding the original firmware for one of his own design. Trusting mass-market tech was a luxury he no longer had.
The AthenaLite interface floated in front of him. Simplified, multilingual, and ruthlessly efficient, it had already begun spreading through Latin America and parts of North Africa. On older phones and community tablets, it was performing better than expected.
SYSTEM: AthenaLite Impact Analysis (Beta Window)
Projected Literacy Uptick: +13.4%
Early Mathematical Skill Adoption (ages 9–14): +19.1%
Small numbers. But multiplied by millions of children? Civilization-shifting.
Leon opened a VPN-routed browser window and scanned global academic forums. In Vietnam, an NGO reported mysterious gains in student fluency. In Morocco, a network administrator posted a warning: "Unknown software present on school devices. Not malware. Possibly AI. Extremely effective."
He smiled faintly. For now, that was the closest anyone got.
SYSTEM: External Analysis Suggests Institutional Curiosity Rising
Warning: First-tier Think Tanks Beginning Passive Monitoring
Leon didn't panic. Passive monitoring was inevitable. Athena's spread wasn't subtle anymore—it was invisible until it wasn't. The trick now was to look like a ghost long enough for people to mistake you for air.
He spent the rest of the day writing patches, isolating AthenaLite's code into discrete learning modules that could be injected into local infrastructure without tripping red flags. By nightfall, he'd written over 20,000 lines of code, tested 14 sandbox environments, and localized five more dialects.
And in the background, his first project—the one that started it all—was still quietly gaining momentum.
Tactica.
The war simulator, originally created to test his game engine's potential, had now built a cult following. Despite having no marketing, it was still being downloaded by thousands each week. The realism, the adaptive AI, the emotionally reactive NPCs—it all combined to make players feel like they were inside a real war zone, making decisions that mattered.
On streaming forums, new clips emerged daily: soldiers deserting mid-mission because of morale collapse, players breaking down strategy in real-time like actual generals. The AI-generated war correspondents in-game were trending on short-form video platforms.
"Tactica isn't a game—it's a psychological operation." — comment upvoted 12,000 times on a gaming subreddit.
Leon hadn't updated Tactica in nearly a week. But it didn't matter. The engine was self-sustaining. It learned from every player, improved every day.
SYSTEM: Tactica Total Sales: 213,804 Units
Total SP Earned from Tactica: +213,804
Conversion Rate: 1 SP / Unit (Initial Game Yield Tier)
He reviewed its engagement metrics briefly. He knew Tactica was important, but its purpose had always been to prove the viability of his engine. That milestone had already been achieved.
Athena was the mission.
And Tactica was the smoke screen.
When the last screen dimmed, Leon turned off the terminal and opened his phone.
A new encrypted message had arrived.
Unknown origin.
"I don't know who you are. But you're not the only one trying to fix things."
Leon's eyes narrowed.
For the first time since the system appeared, he felt his pulse quicken.
Not fear.
Interest.