[WELCOME TO THE TRIAL CHAMBER]
[INITIATING PROBABILITY ASSESSMENT]
Jacob hit solid ground and rolled across smooth stone. Pain exploded through his shoulder, but adrenaline kept him moving.
He scrambled to his feet and took in his surroundings.
Circular chamber. Fifty feet across. Walls of black stone covered in pulsing red symbols. No windows. No doors. No exits.
Just the symbols.
And in the center of the chamber: a pedestal.
On the pedestal: a single object.
A twenty-sided die made of crystal, each face etched with numbers 1 through 20.
The die glowed with internal light—shifting colors that Jacob's brain couldn't name.
[YOUR TALENT WILL BE DETERMINED BY A SINGLE ROLL]
The Administrator's voice echoed through the chamber, though the entity itself remained invisible.
[THE NUMBER YOU ROLL DETERMINES YOUR REWARD]
[OR YOUR PUNISHMENT]
Text appeared in glowing letters on the wall:
[TRIAL PARAMETERS:]
[ROLL 1-5: IMMEDIATE DEATH]
[ROLL 6-10: F-RANK TALENT]
[ROLL 11-15: C-RANK TALENT]
[ROLL 16-19: A-RANK TALENT]
[ROLL 20: SSS-RANK TALENT]
Jacob stared at the die.
The math was brutal.
25% chance of dying immediately.
25% chance of getting worthless power.
25% chance of getting decent power.
20% chance of getting great power.
5% chance of getting SSS-Rank.
And there was no choice. No opt-out. No negotiation.
Roll or be erased.
"This is insane," Jacob whispered.
IT IS FAIR.
"Fair?! You're asking me to gamble my existence on a five percent chance!"
YES.
BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT YOU DID WHEN YOU PLACED YOUR HANDS ON THE AWAKENING STONE.
YOU BET EVERYTHING ON A DREAM, JACOB HAYES.
YOU HOPED SO HARD YOU BROKE REALITY.
NOW PROVE YOUR DESPERATION WAS REAL.
Jacob approached the pedestal slowly.
The die was heavier than it looked when he picked it up. Cold—so cold it burned his fingers.
He thought about Emma. About Derek. About everyone at the ceremony who'd looked at him with pity.
About his parents.
About the promise he'd made at their funeral—that their sacrifice would mean something. That he'd become something. That he wouldn't waste the life they'd died protecting.
About Rebecca Torres, the other failure, who'd vanished from the ceremony like she'd never existed.
About the eleven who'd survived this trial.
And the thirty-six who'd been erased.
Jacob's hand closed around the die.
"What happens if I don't roll?"
AFTER SIXTY SECONDS, YOU WILL BE ERASED ANYWAY.
YOU HAVE FIFTY-THREE SECONDS REMAINING.
No choice.
There had never been a choice.
Jacob closed his eyes.
Mom. Dad. I'm sorry if I'm about to disappoint you again.
He threw the die.
It tumbled through the air, refracting light in impossible patterns. Each rotation seemed to take longer than the last, like time itself was stretching to make him suffer.
The die hit the pedestal.
Bounced once.
Twice.
Three times.
Jacob couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only watch as the die spun and tumbled and slowly, agonizingly began to settle.
It landed.
The number facing up was clearly visible:
20.
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
Not Jacob's laughter.
The Administrator's.
IMPOSSIBLE.
ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE.
THE DIE WAS WEIGHTED TO NEVER LAND ON TWENTY.
PROBABILITY OF THAT OUTCOME: 0.000001%
HOW DID YOU—
The voice cut off abruptly.
The die began to glow. Brighter. Hotter.
Jacob stumbled backward as heat waves distorted the air around it.
[ERROR]
[ERROR]
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED]
[UNKNOWN PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]
[WARNING: ADMINISTRATOR AUTHORITY INSUFFICIENT]
[TALENT GENERATION: INITIATING]
The crystal die shattered.
Twenty shards of light erupted outward, each one carrying a number. They orbited Jacob like electrons around a nucleus, spinning faster and faster until they blurred into a continuous ring of light.
Then they shot inward.
All twenty shards buried themselves in Jacob's chest.
Pain.
Unimaginable, reality-warping pain.
Jacob screamed.
His DNA rewrote itself. His nervous system rebuilt. His brain restructured.
Information flooded his mind—not words, but pure understanding.
Concepts that didn't exist in human language.
He felt his existence change at the fundamental level.
Causality bent around him.
Probability fractured.
Reality made room.
When the light finally faded, Jacob collapsed to his hands and knees, gasping.
A translucent screen appeared before his eyes:
[CONGRATULATIONS]
[YOU HAVE AWAKENED]
[NAME: JACOB HAYES]
[RANK: SSS]
[CAREER: PERFECT HUNTER]
[TALENT: 0% FAILURE RATE]
[EFFECT: ANY ACTION YOU ATTEMPT HAS A 0% CHANCE OF FAILURE. IF SUCCESS IS THEORETICALLY POSSIBLE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, YOU WILL ACHIEVE IT.]
[LIMITATION 1: "POSSIBLE" IS DEFINED BY PHYSICAL LAW]
[LIMITATION 2: SUCCESS IS GUARANTEED - THE PATH TO SUCCESS IS NOT]
[LIMITATION 3: EFFICIENCY MUST BE LEARNED]
[LIMITATION 4: FOCUS ON ONE PRIMARY OBJECTIVE AT A TIME]
[LIMITATION 5: COST IS NOT ELIMINATED - ONLY FAILURE]
Jacob stared at the screen.
Zero percent failure rate.
Anything he tried to do... would succeed.
If it was possible at all, he'd achieve it.
He looked at his hands. They were steady now. No trembling. No fear.
Just certainty.
THIS POWER SHOULD NOT EXIST.
The Administrator's voice sounded different now. Strained. Almost... afraid?
CAUSALITY ITSELF WILL BEND TO ENSURE YOUR SUCCESS.
YOU ARE NOW AN ANOMALY BEYOND MY AUTHORITY TO CONTAIN.
The black walls of the chamber began to crack. White light bled through the fractures—not the void from before, but something else. Something that hurt to look at directly.
Reality reasserting itself.
LEAVE THIS PLACE, JACOB HAYES.
AND PRAY THAT WHAT YOU HAVE BECOME DOES NOT DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH.
The chamber shattered like glass.
Jacob found himself back in his car.
Same parking lot. Same position. Same everything.
He checked his phone: 4:47 PM.
The exact time he'd left the gymnasium.
Zero time had passed.
But everything had changed.
Jacob held up his hand. Steady. Certain.
He thought about the awakening stone. About Emma. About Derek.
About the ceremony.
About his parents.
About the promise.
Zero percent failure rate.
"Let's test this."
Jacob focused on his Honda Civic—the beat-up engine that never started on the first try.
"Start. First turn. Run perfectly."
He turned the key.
The engine roared to life instantly. Not the usual cough-sputter-wheeze. A smooth, powerful purr like the car had just rolled off a showroom floor.
Jacob's pulse quickened.
He turned the engine off. Tried again.
Perfect start.
Again.
Perfect start.
It wasn't luck. Wasn't coincidence.
The power was real.
Jacob pulled out his phone and opened the class group chat. Derek had been posting about his new team:
Derek: Looking for one more member for our Gate team. A or B-Rank only. We're aiming for C-Rank Gates starting next month. Serious applicants only.
Emma: What roles are you still looking for?
Derek: DPS or tank. We've got you for healing, Adrian for support DPS, Sophia for magic DPS, Michael for close-combat DPS. Need someone who can either take hits or deal massive damage.
Jacob's fingers moved across the screen:
Jacob: I'll join. And I'll clear a B-Rank Gate solo before your team even enters their first C-Rank.
He hit send before he could second-guess himself.
His phone exploded with notifications within seconds:
Derek: Is this a joke?
Emma: Jacob, what are you doing?
Michael: LMFAO dude failed awakening and now he's talking shit
Adrian: This is sad, man. Just stop.
Sophia: Jacob, are you okay?
Jacob didn't respond to any of them.
Instead, he opened his status screen—the translucent interface only he could see:
[JACOB HAYES]
[LEVEL: 1]
[RANK: SSS]
[CAREER: PERFECT HUNTER]
[TALENT: 0% FAILURE RATE]
[SKILLS: NONE ACQUIRED]
[EQUIPMENT: NONE]
[NEXT AVAILABLE GATE: D-RANK, OPENS IN 3 DAYS - INDUSTRIAL DISTRICT]
Three days.
Three days until he could enter a Gate and prove what SSS-Rank actually meant.
Three days until Emma and Derek and everyone else saw what they'd dismissed.
Jacob put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
Through his rearview mirror, he saw movement at the gymnasium entrance. Emma stood there with Derek's group, all of them staring at their phones.
Probably laughing at his message.
Let them laugh.
In three days, they'd understand.
Probability didn't care about mockery.
But it cared about him now.
Jacob Hayes had zero percent chance of failure.
Which meant Emma Wilson had one hundred percent chance of regret.
The math was beautiful.