Liam had barely finished answering the avalanche of questions that followed his revelation when Matt leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Okay, so tell us sothing, man," he said eagerly. "About the gas. You’ve got to give us sothing. For Eternal Realms, how deep does it go? Are there hidden storylines? Secret dungeons?"
Lana, sitting beside him, nodded rapidly. "Yeah! There’s no way you just drop a world like that and not give us at least one insider clue."
Liam laughed softly. "I’d love to tell you," he said, "but I really can’t. Every character has their own storyline. It’s not sothing I can spoil."
"Co on, not even a hint?" Matt groaned.
"Not even a hint," Liam shook his head
Matt and Lana looked deflated when they heard Liam’s response.
"You two look like kids who just got told Santa isn’t real," Kristy laughed quietly at the looks in their faces.
Matt sighed dramatically, slumping back into the couch. "Fine. But if my character ends up dying in the first ten minutes, I’m suing."
"You’ll be fine," Liam said, still smiling. "Just don’t pick a fight with anything you can’t handle."
The room erupted in laughter again. But after the noise faded, Harper spoke up, his expression thoughtful.
"Actually," he said, "I’ve been wondering about sothing. How are these devices even doing it? Like... how’s the Lucid processing all that data? The imrsion, the visuals, the world building... How does the device run everything locally? Just how powerful is it?"
He looked at Liam. "So, how are they storing that much information? It doesn’t even make sense."
The others turned to listen. Harper’s question wasn’t just curiosity. It was sothing the entire world had been asking since Lucid’s first appearance.
Liam didn’t answer right away. He smiled faintly, leaning back against the couch.
"Let’s just say it’s not using traditional data systems," he said. "The Lucid has its own ecosystem. The mory and storage don’t work like anything on Earth right now."
"That’s... vague," Matt muttered.
"That’s all you get," Liam shrugged.
"Unbelievable," Lana said, crossing her arms. "You literally created the most advanced technology on the planet, and you’re teasing us like we’re random YouTubers trying to guess patch notes."
Her tone made everyone laugh again.
Then Matt suddenly straightened, snapping his fingers. "Actually," he said, eyes bright, "I’ve got an idea."
"Go on," Liam raised an eyebrow.
"You should make a platform—like a legit space just for Lucid users. Sowhere players can post what they discover. Clips, tips, theories, whatever. But here’s the catch—only Lucid users can post. That way, everything’s legit. No fake leaks. No clickbait."
"Interesting. That could work," Liam nodded slowly.
Matt leaned forward, getting more animated, as he spoke, "Right? And you can make it like a social hub too. Verified Lucid owners could connect, follow others, maybe even form guilds directly through it."
"That’s... actually a solid idea," Harper said. "Would keep the ecosystem closed and authentic."
Liam’s mind was already turning. He could see the potential imdiately. But instead of just making a forum, he wanted to take it a step further.
"I’ll do that," he said simply.
"Wait, really?"Matt blinked in surprise. He had only thrown the idea out there, he has never expected Liam to actually take it.
"Yes," Liam smiled. "But I’ll go beyond a forum It’ll be a full platform—social, streaming, interactive. Think of it like... a mix between a live hub and a player’s network. Lucid users can post clips, share content, stream directly through their devices, or just talk. The public will be able to watch through browsers or phones, but they can’t post or verify accounts unless they have a Lucid."
"You’re serious?" Matt’s mouth fell open
"Completely."
Liam loved the idea, because through the platform, the public would be able connect with their favourite livestrears and also gift them. Also, using the platform and the exclusive identity it provides for them, Lucid users can flex on the public. They can also create groups or guilds, adding other Lucid users as mbers.
Another addition would be that the livestream icon that shows the number of ongoing livestreams, would be changed to the icon of the new platform. So, that when Lucid users navigate to it, they will be taken to the website. Or they can simply tell their AI assistant to take them to the website.
Liam passed the idea to Lucy, and she created the platform and completed everything just as he wants it, all in just a minute.
Imdiately, Lucid users, including Liam’s friends, received notification in their inboxes, telling them about the new platform.
Matt’s eyes darted to his Lucid screen. A glowing notification was sitting in his inbox.
"No way," he muttered, opening it.
Harper checked his too. So did Lana, Elise, Kristopher, and the rest. All of them received the sa ssage—Nova Technologies Announcent: New Platform Live—"LucidVerse" is now available.
Matt read the text aloud, his voice shaky. "LucidVerse... combines streaming, user forums, and social connections in a single verified ecosystem..."
He turned slowly toward Liam and spoke slowly in shock, "You just made an entire global platform in under two minutes."
"Technically, yes," Liam smiled.
"That’s... not humanly possible." Kristy looked at him like he had just rewritten the laws of physics.
Liam chuckled. "Who said anything about humanly?"
They all burst into laughter again—but deep down, they all knew that they were witnessing sothing beyond their understanding.
They wanted to ask questions but they held themselves back, as they felt that Liam would just casually drop another shocking secret of his on them. Liam and his friends decided to ga throughout the whole day, as they all had nothing else they were doing. They chose Eternal Realms and ford a team, giving Liam team leader role.
***
anwhile, across the world, Lucid Public Release and Nova Technologies dominated every screen and headline.
From social networks to news sites, every conversation revolved around the company that had just changed the course of human history—and the two pieces of technology that made it possible: the delivery drones and Lucid.
As if that wasn’t enough, a third shock followed less than thirty minutes after the first deliveries. Nova Technologies announced a new platform—a fully integrated streaming and content ecosystem designed exclusively for Lucid users. Alongside it ca news that the company’s official account dropped the date for the next global pre-order and the fact that only one thousand units would be available.
The mont the announcent dropped, the world reacted at once, as alarms were set and calendars were synced. Every corner of the internet seed to vibrate with one thought: be fast or be left behind.
For strears and creators, the platform felt like salvation. Many had worried that Lucid’s system would leave them without work, unable to make a living through their streaming, forcing them to return to ordinary PCs to make a living. But the new platform changed everything.
Because only verified Lucid users could be followed, every creator who owned a device saw their followers skyrocket overnight. Viewer counts soared. Sponsorships would naturally pour in.
At the sa ti, numbers on traditional streaming platforms collapsed. The hierarchy of the digital world was being rewritten in real ti.
Soon, people began to call Lucid owners by a new na—Digital Aristocrats.
Nova Technologies had effectively divided the planet into two groups: more than eight billion viewers and just one thousand creators. The divide was sharp, and it was only growing wider.
Within days, Lucid users would start flaunting their devices in public. For them, the glass wasn’t just a tool; it was a badge of status, proof that they were among the chosen few.
The effect would be amplified by another announcent from the company—a replacent quota for lost or damaged devices. Victims could purchase a new unit, which would be delivered again on the official distribution day.
That assurance only increased the value of the product. Everyone wanted one. And when the next pre-order day would arrive, the internet would be turned into a global battlefield—a true fastest-finger contest where only the first thousand would succeed.
News networks ran nonstop coverage. Analysts debated Nova Technologies’ motives, ethics, and long-term goals. Governnts demanded reports. Corporations assembled private task forces to uncover the company’s structure and origins. Yet, as always, they found nothing.
Behind closed doors, every governnt and major tech firm knew the truth they didn’t want to say aloud: the world had changed—and they had been left behind.
In less than a day, Nova Technologies had created a new social class, one that carried more prestige than iPhone users ever did or ever would. Stock markets trembled as major tech companies’ shares fell sharply. And everyone knew this was only the beginning.
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