"THIS PART OF MY LIFE'S REDEMPTION, I SEE IT, I WANT IT, WE GET IT..."
The bass hit with a force that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the BMW, rattling the windows as Amias turned the volume higher.
Not because he needed to hear it better—he knew every syllable, every beat drop, every subtle inflection in his own voice—but because there was something undeniably different about hearing your own song played on the radio.
Redemption wasn't just playing from his phone or through studio monitors.
It was coming through the airwaves, transmitted across London, reaching ears he would never see, minds he would never know.
Sixteen hours since release, and the track was already in heavy rotation on three major stations.
Amias drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, allowing himself a moment of pure satisfaction as the morning sun filtered through the windshield, casting golden light across the leather interior of the car. The BMW's engine hummed smoothly beneath him as he navigated through London's early traffic.
His phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Probably Zara with another update. The notifications had been coming non-stop since last night—metrics climbing at a rate that seemed almost impossible. The charts had updated six hours ago, and the results were beyond anything he'd anticipated:
I'm Tryna had jumped from #76 to #49.
The Daily Duppy freestyle had broken into the top 50, landing at #39.
And most importantly…
Redemption had debuted at #18.
Three tracks in the UK charts simultaneously, all without a label, without traditional distribution channels, without the industry machine that was supposedly essential for success.
The System's notification had come long ago, but staring at the reward made it no less surreal.
The blue interface materializing before his eyes even as he'd stared at the chart positions on his phone screen.
MILESTONE ACHIEVEMENT:
First UK Top 50 Entry (x3)
Reward:
[IDOL PHENOMENON] (Legendary) – (K-Pop inspired)
Your presence activates an unprecedented level of fan devotion, creating organized communities that propel your career forward with minimal management.
+25 Dance Mastery
+5 Charisma
-20% exposure needed to achieve mainstream recognition
+25% greater likelihood of media coverage for your activities
+150% increased probability of listeners becoming dedicated fans after first exposure
Passive: Language Barrier Nullification: Your music resonates emotionally regardless of listeners' language background
Passive: "Parasocial Magnetism" – Fans develop unusually strong emotional connections to you.
NOTICE: Celebrity status comes with significant reduction in personal boundaries.
He had re-read it multiple times, the implications slowly sinking in.
This was a transformation, a fundamental shift in how the world would perceive and interact with him.
The effects had manifested almost immediately.
Amias pulled into the parking lot outside Metropolis Studios. He checked his phone before stepping out—30,300 Instagram followers now, up from. His YouTube subscribers had surged past 13,000. His Twitch account now boasted 12,900 followers.
And then there was the Patreon.
With all this traction he figured—'why not capitalize on it?'.
A decision made on impulse after seeing the surge in interest—announce the early release of "8AM" (the gas station video) for Patreon subscribers at the modest price of £5.
The purcahse count stood at 7,142.
Seven thousand people willing to pay £5 each to hear his song one day early. The calculation was automatic—over £35,000 before fees, pushing his earnings past the six-figure mark.
Total earnings?
No.
If that were the case he'd be far richer than now.
But still—within his bank account there were six numbers on screen. Even after the transfer he'd sent to his mother's account this morning—£15,000—which felt both momentous and somehow insufficient given how quickly things were accelerating.
Amias locked the car and pocketed his keys, pausing for a moment to study his reflection in the tinted windows. Same face, same eyes, same person... and yet not. As if he were staring at a man in the mirror.
Something had shifted, not just externally but within himself. A certainty, perhaps. The sense that the path ahead, while still challenging, was now illuminated.
The same labels that had dismissed him days ago were now blowing up his phone. The same industry gatekeepers who had condescended to him were suddenly eager to "revisit the conversation." It was gratifying, but also faintly amusing. How quickly the tides turned when numbers started speaking.
The familiar weight of his phone felt different now—heavier with opportunity, with connection, with the responsibility that came with suddenly having thousands of people hanging on your every word. He slipped it back into his pocket and headed for the studio entrance, nodding to the security guard who now recognized him on sight.
"Big things happening, yeah?" the guard said with a knowing smile. "Heard your track three times on my drive in this morning."
"Just getting started," Amias replied, returning the smile before stepping into the building's cool interior.
The Studio was already buzzing with activity when he arrived. Zara stood near the console, engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation with Zel, suprising given she rarely ever speaks to anyoen besides himself.
Jordan and Tyler were sprawled on the leather couch, scrolling through their phones, occasionally showing each other something that made them laugh. Lexus, who was in the studio for the first time ever, helping Amias with his studio vlogs, was setting up camera gear in the corner.
Zane was hunched over a laptop, the glow reflected in his reading glasses. And surprisingly, Jaime was already at the mixing board, headphones half on as he made subtle adjustments to a track playing through the monitors.
The conversation died as Amias entered, all eyes turning to him. He could feel it immediately—the shift in energy, the subtle repositioning of bodies as they unconsciously oriented themselves toward him.
This was new.
Or was it?
[Passive "Aura Recognition" – Fans feel your presence before you even speak.]
"Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Zara said, but her mock irritation couldn't hide the pride in her eyes. "The man of the hour."
"Of the day," Jordan corrected. "Man's blowing up so fast I'm getting notifications about him on twitter and I didn't even follow his account on there."
Amias set his backpack down, unsure how to respond to the attention. There was still something disorienting about being the center of so much focus. He opted for redirection.
"How are we looking with the mixtape?" he asked, moving toward the console where Jaime was working.
"Track seven needs another verse," Zel said, following him. "And I still think the transition between four and five is too abrupt. But overall..." he shrugged, a smile breaking through his usually serious demeanor, "it's fire. Could drop it tomorrow and still make noise."
Amias nodded, but the hesitation in his gesture Zara caught immediately.
"But?" she prompted.
"But it's not right yet," Amias said, searching for words to explain the dissatisfaction gnawing at him. "It's good, yeah. Great even, technically. But it's missing something."
"Missing what?" Tyler asked, looking up from his phone.
Amias paced a few steps, fingers tapping against his thigh. "Soul—Art," he finally said. "Essence. It's like... imagine cooking a meal with all the right ingredients, following the recipe perfectly, but it still doesn't taste like when your mum makes it."
A silence settled over the room as they absorbed his words. It wasn't the answer any of them had expected—especially not when the metrics were all pointing toward imminent success.
"The numbers don't lie, though," Zane pointed out, ever the analyst. "Your tracks are performing insanely good right now, and you've got a lot that's better on here."
"Numbers aren't everything," Amias replied, surprising himself with the sentiment. Wasn't that what the System was all about? Optimization, efficiency, measurable outcomes? Yet here he was, pushing back against pure data in favor of something ineffable.
"Look," he continued, addressing the room at large now, "I didn't ask you all here just to talk about the mixtape. We need to discuss something bigger."
He moved to the center of the room, ensuring he had everyone's attention. The air felt charged, expectant.
"What's happening right now—this momentum—it's not just about me dropping a few tracks. It's about building something sustainable. Something that lasts beyond the initial hype."
Amias looked around at each face, gauging their reactions. "I've been thinking about structure, about how we move forward. Right now, it's chaotic—me and Zara trying to handle so much at once, you all helping where you can, but without clear roles or direction."
"What are you proposing?" Zara asked, her analytical mind already several steps ahead.
"A team," Amias said simply. "Not just friends helping out, but a proper team. With defined roles, responsibilities, compensation."
The room fell completely silent. Lexus paused in the middle of assembling the tripod. Even Jaime turned away from the console, his interest piqued.
"I know most of us are young," Amias continued, acknowledging the elephant in the room. "Most of us haven't even finished school. But that doesn't mean we can't start building something real."
He turned to Zara, holding her gaze. "I told you before I'd probably end up hiring an established manager down the line. That I needed you for now until I could afford someone with experience."
Zara's expression remained carefully neutral, though something flickered in her eyes.
"I was wrong," Amias admitted. "I don't want to hire a manager. I want you to be my manager. Full stop. No temporary arrangement, no stepping aside when things get bigger. You know me better than anyone, you see things I miss, you keep me grounded. I need that—not some industry veteran who sees me as just another asset."
A small smile curved the corner of Zara's mouth. "Are you offering me a official job, Amias Mars?"
"I'm offering you a partnership, just like you asked for," he corrected. "Different thing entirely."
He turned to the others. "Same goes for all of you. Zane, your degree in statistics makes you perfect for handling marketing and finance. Zel, I need you as my main producer—not just for this mixtape but going forward. Jaime, I need a dedicated engineer who knows my sound." He paused, looking at Jaime with an intensity that acknowledged their complicated history. "Someone I can trust."
Jaime held his gaze for a beat before giving a slight nod.
"Lexus, I need someone to handle all the visual content—the Twitch streams, YouTube, everything that puts a face to the sound. Jordan, Tyler," he turned to his oldest friends, "there's so much ground-level work—events, merchandise, community building—that I can't handle myself anymore."
The silence that followed was weighted with consideration. Amias could almost see the thoughts racing behind their eyes—opportunities balanced against risks, loyalty against practicality.
Zara was the first to break the silence. "You know I'm in," she said, her voice soft but resolute. "If it's you asking, I'm in for life."
Something warm unfurled in Amias's chest at her words. Before he could respond, Zel spoke up.
"Look, I've only known you a couple weeks," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "But in that time, I've seen you put together a mixtape faster than anyone I've ever worked with. Hell I'd say faster than anyone in this industry. Your work ethic is mad. The vision is clear." He nodded decisively. "I'm in, fam."
"I'm not trying to be a pass-around engineer at Metropolis forever," Jaime added with a shrug that belied the significance of his decision. "If you're offering stability, a consistent sound to develop... yeah, I'm interested."
The momentum was building. Zane adjusted his glasses with a smile. "I'm haven't completed it yet but my statistics degree is meant to lead to some corporate finance job anyway. This sounds far more interesting. I'm in."
"You already know I'm your guy with the camera," Lexus said, patting his equipment bag. "Been waiting for someone to take my work seriously."
All eyes turned to Jordan and Tyler, who exchanged a glance before breaking into identical grins.
"Are you mad, bro?" Jordan asked, laughing. "Of course we're in. We've been riding with you since year seven. You think we're bowing out now that things are getting good?"
"Could've just asked us at the chicken shop," Tyler added. "Saved all the dramatic speeches."
The tension in the room dissolved into laughter, and Amias felt something settle within him—a certainty that had been building since the System first activated in his mind. This was right. These people, this moment, this direction.
"It won't be easy," he cautioned, not wanting to mislead them. "We're building something from scratch. There will be setbacks, mistakes, learning curves that feel vertical sometimes."
"Nothing worth doing is easy," Zara said, echoing words he'd spoken to her. "That's what makes it worth doing."
Amias nodded, grateful for her insight. "Alright then. First order of business—we need a few more specialists."
—
The day continued in a blur of meetings, each one a carefully calculated move in Amias's expanding strategy. The team watched in something approaching awe as he systematically identified and recruited the missing pieces they needed.
First was Alessandra, an Italian fashion designer whose minimalist aesthetic had caught Amias's eye on Instagram. Her tiny studio in East London was cluttered with fabric samples and sketches when he arrived unannounced, portfolio of ideas in hand.
"I have brand concepts," he'd said without preamble, laying out both clothing from the brand and mockups of North Recording Group—a stylized compass rose that pointed only northward. "I need someone who can translate this into wearable art, not just merchandise."
Alessandra had studied him curiously before examining his sketches. "You're that rapper, yes?"
"That's me," Amias confirmed, surprised that she'd recognized him.
"My younger brother plays your music," she explained, a hint of amusement in her voice. "He said you'd be the next big thing." She tapped a manicured finger against the logo. "This has potential. Clean, distinctive. What did you have in mind?"
By the time he left her studio, they had improvents on the clothing line, transformed mockups into proper ideas and elevated basics with subtle branding, pieces that would be recognized by those in the know without screaming for attention.
Next was Marek, a Polish graphic design student whose work Amias had discovered through a university showcase. They met in a coffee shop near the campus, Marek clearly nervous but trying not to show it.
"Your digital artwork is incredible," Amias began, scrolling through the portfolio on Marek's tablet. "Especially these concert visuals."
"They're just concepts," Marek admitted. "No one's actually used them for real shows yet."
Amias looked up from the tablet, meeting the designer's eyes. "I want to change that. You're looking for graphic design gigs, right? I've got more than just a gig for you."
By the end of their meeting, Marek was responsible for all of Amias; visual identity—from social media assets to album artwork to the dynamic visuals that would eventually accompany Amias's live performances.
The final addition came in the form of Daniel, an experienced event coordinator who had been criminally underutilized organizing university functions and school assemblies. Amias found him in the middle of setting up for a sixth form career fair, looking bored out of his mind.
"I heard you're the best at what you do," Amias said, helping him straighten a banner that had come loose. "But I also heard you're not being challenged."
Daniel had looked at him suspiciously, trying to place the face. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," Amias replied with a confidence that seemed to come more naturally with each passing day. "But I'm organizing some events that might actually put your skills to use. And I promise the pay will be better than what schools offer."
By the time he'd explained his vision for release parties, pop-up performances, and proper tours, Daniel was already mentally drafting logistics plans.
—
Amias found himself alone in his car. He pulled over in a quiet spot overlooking the city, needing a moment to breathe, to think, to process the whirlwind of what this day had been.
He leaned his head back against the headrest, exhaling slowly.
The meteoric rise in his following, the intensity of fan engagement, the way people seemed drawn to him even more than before—it was all exactly as the reward described.
His phone buzzed with yet another notification. He glanced at it almost wearily before sitting up straight, suddenly alert. The message was from Capari:
Heard you're going to New York? You think I'm letting you go over to a whole other country unprotected? I'll see you on the plane. And no, no one reckless or who you don't know coming with me.
Amias stared at the text, a slow smile spreading across his face.
He started to type a response, then paused, a new thought forming. With the Idol Phenomenon reward active, increased visibility wasn't just beneficial—it was strategically valuable. Each new pair of eyes on him increased the likelihood of creating another dedicated fan, another supporter who would drive his career forward.
Why limit himself to New York? The American market was vast, complex, with multiple power centers. If he was going to make the jump across the Atlantic, why not maximize the impact?
Los Angeles. The entertainment capital, home to the major labels, the tastemakers, the industry infrastructure that could amplify everything he was building.
His twitch viewer count was sure to make a massive jump. Why not stream the entire experience?
A tour of America, featuring exploration, music and fun.
A subathon.
New York would be the entry point, the initial foothold.
But there would be far more to come.
<>
1 extra chapter on disc
8 on Patreon, links on profile.