The following morning, Amias woke to another notification hovering in his vision:
[New Quest Available]
Release your first song with a music video
Reward: 2 CP
He stared at the notification for a long moment. Release a song with a video? That was a massive leap from reaching 50's. But two chance points... that was tempting.
By afternoon, Amias found himself walking through the estate with Tyler and Jordan, the weight of the new quest sitting heavy on his mind. The trio moved with practiced awareness, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings—a habit ingrained in anyone who'd grown up in these parts.
"I'm telling you," Jordan was saying, gesturing with animated hands, "Rondo's got bars for days. That new freestyle? Cold."
Tyler scoffed. "Man's just recycling the same flows."
Amias half-listened to their debate, his mind elsewhere. He adjusted the cream-colored beanie sitting atop his head, part of the outfit he'd assembled that morning: distressed Horse Brand jeans, a fitted black long sleeve and clean white sneakers. Since the Flacko Mode reward, dressing well felt as natural as breathing.
"Yo, Ami, you good?" Tyler nudged him. "You been quiet."
"Just thinking," Amias replied, hands in his pockets against the light January chill.
"About that girl?" Jordan teased, a knowing grin spreading across his dark features. "The one from school?"
Amias shook his head but couldn't hide the slight tension in his jaw. "Temi? Nah."
"Cap!" Tyler laughed. "Your whole face changes when someone mentions her name."
"She was literally sitting on next man's lap," Amias said, more bitterness in his voice than he intended. "At the studio."
Jordan winced. "Rough. But you weren't even talking to her before, were you?"
"We had lunch," Amias admitted. "At the food court. Right before."
Tyler and Jordan exchanged glances.
"Look," Tyler said, his voice softening slightly, "girls like Temi—they're always around man who's popping. You can't be surprised."
"I'm not," Amias muttered, though the sting of disappointment said otherwise. "Just thought... I don't know."
"You thought what? That one lunch meant something?" Jordan said, shaking his head. "Bro, you're tripping."
"True. Yeah, I'm tripping," Amias conceded, trying to push thoughts of Temi aside.
They approached the corner shop—the "offie" as everyone called it—nestled between a betting shop and a barber. The familiar bell jingled as they pushed through the door, nodding at Mr. Patel behind the counter, who'd known them since they were kids nicking sweets.
"Wag'wan, Mr. P," Tyler greeted, heading straight for the drinks section.
The small shop was cramped with shelves stocked with everything from toiletries to tinned food, the fluorescent lighting casting a harsh glow over the narrow aisles. Amias grabbed a chicken sandwich and a Lucozade, while Jordan loaded up on crisps and chocolate.
"You lot got money for all that?" Mr. Patel called out, eyeing Jordan's armful of snacks with suspicion.
"Course, Mr. P," Jordan replied, already digging into his pocket. "We're paying customers innit?"
Outside, they leaned against the wall, tearing into their food. Amias checked his phone—a message from Zain: "At Kev's flat. Engineer's ready. Pull up."
"I've got to link with someone," Amias said, pocketing his phone. "You man coming?"
"Who we linking?" Tyler asked, wiping crumbs from his mouth.
Amias hesitated, then decided to trust them. These two had been riding with him since primary school. If he couldn't trust them, who could he trust?
"Zain has engineer connect, I'm going there to get something sorted."
Jordan's eyebrows shot up. "What, like a track or something?"
"Yeah," Amias admitted. "I made something. Want to get it engineered properly."
Tyler stared at him, incredulous. "You made a track? When were you going to tell us?"
"I'm telling you now," Amias said, a small smile breaking through his serious expression. "You lot can come if you want. It's in the Harrow Road flats."
"Course we're coming," Jordan said immediately. "Need to see if you're actually cold or just chatting."
They started walking, cutting through the estate with practiced ease. As they moved deeper into 12Anti territory, they passed groups of older youths loitering on corners. Recognition flickered across faces—nods exchanged, occasional daps given to familiar faces. Dangerous as these areas could be, they held a different kind of danger for Amias and his friends. This was their endz, where they were known.
"Yo, Ami," called a voice from a group huddled near a stairwell. "Got anything?"
"Not today," Amias replied smoothly, not breaking stride.
They continued past the towers that defined the skyline of their world, concrete giants watching over the daily rhythms of estate life. Mothers pushing strollers, old men playing dominoes under makeshift shelters, younger kids chasing each other around benches—normal life continuing in the shadow of the less visible economies that kept many families afloat.
"You know this building well enough to know which exits to use if feds pull up?" Tyler asked quietly as they approached a towering block of flats.
"Yeah," Amias nodded. "Zain's shown me."
Outside the building, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand, was Zain himself. Gone was yesterday's university attire, replaced by the familiar black Nike Tech tracksuit. He looked up as they approached, pushing off the wall.
"Took your time," he said, giving each of them a fist bump. "Kev's waiting."
"These man wanted to come," Amias explained, nodding toward Tyler and Jordan.
Zain eyed them briefly. "Ty, Jordi."
"Wag'wan Peppy," Nicknames furred without hesitation.
"Cool. Keep it quiet though. Kev doesn't like too many people knowing his setup."
They followed Zain into the building, past graffitied walls and a broken lift, taking the stairs to the fourth floor. The corridor was dimly lit, the smell of weed and cooking spices mingling in the air. Zain stopped at a door with peeling green paint, knocked three times, then twice more.
The door cracked open, a face peering out suspiciously before recognizing Zain.
"Bout time," said the young man, opening the door fully. "Who's all this?"
"This is Amias—the one with the track," Zain said, stepping inside. "And his people."
Kevin was younger than Amias had expected—maybe 20, mixed-race with a close-cropped fade, dressed simply in a white tee and grey joggers. His flat was small but transformed by equipment—a corner of the living room set up as a makeshift studio, with monitors, a mixing board, microphones, and acoustic panels attached to the walls with what looked like heavy-duty tape.
"Sick setup," Tyler murmured, eyes wide as he took in the equipment.
"It does the job," Kevin said, gesturing for them to sit on the worn sofa. "Zain sent me your raw track last night. Been working on it."
Amias felt a flutter of nervousness. "Yeah? How's it sounding?"
Instead of answering, Kevin sat at his desk, hands moving across the equipment with practiced ease. "Listen for yourself."
The room filled with sound—Amias' track, but transformed. The rough edges smoothed away, the vocals clearer, punchier, sitting perfectly within the beat. The bass hit harder, the hi-hats crisper. It was like someone had taken his home recording and given it professional polish.
Amias found himself nodding along, mouth slightly open as he heard his own voice—enhanced, elevated, but still unmistakably his—fill the room. Jordan and Tyler exchanged wide-eyed glances, clearly impressed.
When the track ended, there was a moment of silence.
"Bro," Tyler finally said, "that's actually cold."
"For real," Jordan agreed, staring at Amias like he'd never seen him before. "Since when could you spit like that?"
Amias couldn't hold back a grin. "You like it?"
"Like it?" Tyler exclaimed. "Fam, this sounds proper. Like, proper proper."
Kevin nodded, something like professional pride in his expression. "It's good, still. Raw talent there. I've done some basic mixing, but there's more we could do."
"Such as?" Amias asked, leaning forward.
"Could layer the vocals more on the hook, add some subtle effects to give it more dimension. Maybe bring out the 808s a bit more to match your flow on certain sections."
Amias nodded, impressed by Kevin's ear. "Whatever you think will make it better."
"How much do we owe you for this?" Zain asked, pulling out his wallet.
"Hundred and fifty," Kevin replied. "That gets you full engineering, mixing, mastering, and the files ready for distribution if you want to upload it."
Amias reached into his pocket, counting out the cash he'd brought specifically for this purpose. He handed it over, a strange feeling of legitimacy washing over him. This wasn't just messing around in his bedroom anymore—this was real.
"So what you calling this track?" Kevin asked, pocketing the money.
Amias hesitated. He hadn't even thought about a title.
"I'm Tryna," Tyler suggested, repeating the hook. "Simple, catchy. "
"I'm Tryna," Amias repeated, testing how it felt. "Yeah, that works."
Kevin nodded, turning back to his computer. "I'll set it up under that name then. Want to hear some of the potential changes I'm thinking of?"
For the next hour, they sat in Kevin's flat, listening as he worked his magic on the track. He'd play a section, make adjustments, then play it again, asking for Amias' input on each change. It was a meticulous process, but fascinating—seeing how each small tweak affected the overall sound.
"You're catching on quick," Kevin commented, noticing Amias' attentive focus. "Most artists just want to hear the final product."
"Nah, this is interesting," Amias said honestly. "How you get the vocals to sit just right in the mix."
Kevin smiled slightly. "It's about creating space. Every element needs room to breathe, yeah? But they all need to come together as one thing too."
As Kevin continued working, Zain pulled Amias aside. "What about your other tracks? The ones you were working on?"
"Still developing them," Amias said quietly. "This one just came together fastest."
"Smart to focus on one at a time," Zain nodded. "But don't forget about those other beats. Especially the redemption one. That could be special."
By the time they were ready to leave, the track was nearly complete. Kevin promised to send the final version by tomorrow night, with all the files needed for distribution.
"You thinking of putting this out?" Kevin asked as they headed for the door.
Amias exchanged glances with Zain. "Yeah, I think so."
"You'll need visuals," Kevin said matter-of-factly. "Even just a simple video. Tracks don't move without visuals these days, especially when you're just starting out."
"We'll sort something," Zain assured him. "Thanks for this, fam."
Outside, the January evening had settled over the estate, streetlights casting orange pools on the concrete. They walked in animated conversation, Tyler and Jordan peppering Amias with questions.
"So how long you been making tunes for real?" Jordan asked, still visibly impressed.
"Not long," Amias admitted. "Just been working on it quietly."
"And you never thought to tell us?" Tyler said, punching his arm lightly. "Your bredrins?"
"Wanted to wait until I had something worth sharing," Amias explained. "Something proper."
"Well, it's proper now," Zain interjected. "The question is, what's the plan? Kevin's right about needing visuals."
The quest notification flashed briefly in Amias' mind. Release your first song with a music video.
"I'm thinking simple for the first one," Amias said thoughtfully. "Nothing fancy."
"I've got a cousin with a decent camera," Jordan offered. "He's shot a couple videos for local artists. Nothing major, but they came out clean."
"How much would he charge?" Amias asked.
"For you? Probably just a hundred. He's building his portfolio."
Amias nodded, calculations running through his head. One-fifty for engineering, another hundred for a video... the investment was adding up. But with two chance points as a reward, plus the potential of what might come from releasing a solid first track—it seemed worth it.
"Let's link him tomorrow," Amias decided. "See what he can do."
As they approached the intersection where they'd part ways, Tyler looked at Amias with newfound respect.
"Never thought you'd be the one to actually make something happen," he said, no malice in his voice. "Always figured you'd just keep moving product, you know?"
"Maybe it can be both," Amias replied, though even as he said it, he felt the pull toward music growing stronger. "For now, anyway."
They exchanged daps and parted ways, Jordan and Tyler heading toward the eastern blocks while Amias and Zain continued south. The evening breeze carried the distant sounds of the city—sirens, music from passing cars, the endless London hum.
"They didn't even know you could rap," Zain observed once they were alone.
"No one did," Amias said quietly. "Not even me, really. Not until recently."
Zain nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Things are changing for you, fam. I can see it."
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Top 10 and you get a chapter tomorrow.