The casino, the players, the table, the wretched dealer whimpering in the corner, the grey-haired manager crumbled on the floor, everything melted away and Bob was left standing in a formless white space. Before him was the system message:
> Challenge Four Completed!
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> Congratulations.
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> Final Grade - S
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> Current pass percentage: 58%
Bob had done it. It was over then right? Over... Bob couldn't believe it. It couldn't be over... This wasn't a nightmare you woke up from. This was the endless nightmare. The death dream. No, that was it, Bob was passed out on the casino floor from a severe case of alcohol poisoning; the message, the white space, they were all some drink-induced hallucination. Dammit Bob. I told you whisky was poison.
But why was his mind so clear, so strangely clear. It was like he hadn't had a drop of the stuff. Or the system had purged his bloodstream. His vision was sharp. He balanced easily. Maybe, no, don't you dare to hope, but maybe...
> All challenges completed:
>
> Initiation complete.
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>
> Calculating final grade...
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> Challenge 1 - E
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> Challenge 2 - E
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> Challenge 3 - E
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> Challenge 4 - S
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>
> Final Grade Calculated.
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> Final Grade - A
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>
> System Primer Identified.
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> System Primer Installed.
>
>
> Joker Card Identified.
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> Joker Card Played.
It was really over. Bob couldn't believe it. It was like he was in a daze. The words didn't make sense to him. He'd survived? A knot he'd been clenching tight inside himself all this time seemed to loosen. He could breathe again. His chest felt light somehow. He let out a long, deep sigh. Then another. He closed eyes. It was all over. He kept repeating that phrase to himself. Over, over, over. He'd escaped. He'd done it. He was free... That word hung in the air like the lingering echo of a bell, free, free, coloring the space and crystalizing the moment.
It hit him then at last. He, he, Robert Brown, most junior QA engineer at his seat-of-the-pants startup, had made it through. He'd been muddied, battered, betrayed, he’d almost given up half a dozen times, he'd seen player after player go down around him, Sally, Henry, others, countless others, but somehow, somehow, he’d made it through.
What was this feeling? Like a mad, defiant joy. He ought to be sad. This here was death of civilization. The golden age of mankind, of technology, of self-determination, they were crumbled ashes. The system had swept through and destroyed it all. Bob couldn't even imagine how many people had died. But he wasn't one of them. He was still alive. And he was free. He'd never, never have to face something like that again. He'd take George and they'll live somewhere nice and peaceful; in the country maybe, quiet nights and long walks. He and George.
George, Bob swallowed. His happiness sucked away into a whirlpool of desperate worry. He didn't want to say it. Just in case, just in case, he didn't want to tempt fate, to tempt the system. The evil system. But God, how Bob hoped George had made it through. George, old George, that lovable idiot, that golden rug lying in all the most inconvenient places. My George. Bob didn’t want to have to come back to an empty apartment. He didn’t think he could take it. Bob started to cry.
Maybe some human player had taken pity on those brown eyes and golden fur. Bob knew he would have. Bob knew he would have saved George, no matter the cost. Really? Really Bob? You sure talk the talk, but what have you done, really? A twelve year old girl, Bob. She'd only been twelve years old. And she begged you for mercy, tears in her eyes, she begged you. No, no. It's only right. It's only fair that you should lose something too.
George. Bob was sobbing, his shoulders shuddering with every labored breath. Don't leave me here George. But his hopes caught in his throat. How could George have defeated the boar? How could George have solved the escape room? Bob better steel himself. He better turn his heart to stone. The system didn't play favorites. The system didn't care.
Bob tried to pull himself together. He did try. He’d seen things hadn’t he? He’d lost people right before his eyes. He was strong wasn't he? He'd made it this far. Nothing helped. Nothing made the thought any easier, any more bearable. Wiping away the tears that kept on falling, Bob struggled through his remaining notifications.
> Achievement: Bringing Down the House
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> Description: Players are supposed to lose.
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> Bankrupt a system casino.
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> Effect:
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> * Lifetime ban from all system casinos.
> * A medium percentage bonus to luck.
Bob had thrown his stone hadn't he? He'd thrown it at the system and the initiation and the madness of it all. One stone into the endless ocean, but here were the ripples. He saw the manager pleading with him to stop. Well the man got what was coming to him. Bob didn’t pity him one drop.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Bob's heart fluttered as he read down to the effect. That's what Bob needed. That's all he needed right now, a little more luck. There was one more bet he needed to win. The most important of them all. He decided then and there that he wouldn't give up on George, no matter how much it hurt to hope. He wouldn't turn his heart to stone. He wouldn't try to imagine a world without George. And with that resolution, Bob felt a little calmer. He felt an echo of that trance-like mindset, that self-deception; he was going to win. He didn't know how or why but he was going to win.
> Achievement: S-ranked Challenger
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> Description: Talk about overkill.
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> Achieve a rank of S in a system initiation challenge
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> Effect: A minor percentage bonus to all base stats
Bob grinned wickedly. That’s what you get for giving me three Es in a row. Sometimes a man just needs the opportunity to shine. Bob hadn't even known there was an S rank. Well Bob was someone who did the impossible. And the system better remember the fact.
Bob might just have been the only sentient on earth to achieve S rank. Scratch that, Bob was definitely the only sentient on earth to achieve S rank. I mean, of course, it was nothing, requiring just an everyday sixteen back-to-back death-defying bets. It was hard to see why ordinary mortals would even attempt such a feat, let alone have the good luck to survive it.
Actually thinking about it now, what the hell had Bob been thinking? Did he have death wish? What had he been playing at? He tried to explain to himself what had happened. At the start, it was... um... cough, well, an accident, damn cherries, but halfway through he'd started to sense something. It was like a golden current in the air, like he was seeing luck flow through the room, like he knew he was going to win.
Hearing himself describe the experience did not reassure Bob. No, it made Bob think he deserved to be dead. Was he really claiming he could see luck? What the hell was luck. There was a much simpler and more compelling explanation. Bob summed up the episode in five words: "that was some strong whiskey." Magic beer, strong whiskey, he needed to be a bit more careful next time he ordered system drinks.
> Achievement: Stellar Initiate
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> Description: We expect great things.
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> Complete the system initiation with a final rank of A
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> Effect:
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> * A small percentage increase to all stats
> * Qualification for system sponsorship program
Three Es and an S got you an A? What scoring system did the system use? That was not a curve Bob was familiar with. Still Bob wasn’t complaining. And let’s be honest those had all been very high Es.
Bob came to the last message:
> Choose your class:
It was happening, wasn't it? Bob had suspected of course. The "system initiation," all those achievements with their stat increases, the primer's table of contents, Bob had fallen into one of those novels he spent all his free time reading. And this here was payday. The boon given to those skilled or lucky enough to survive four challenges. This is what they had all been working up to. A class, abilities, power beyond a mortal’s imagination. Bob couldn't help being a little excited. A little too excited. "Show me fire wizard. Come on fire wizard," Bob shouted at the grey text in front of him. There was nothing more epic than a cloaked figure manipulating primordial fire.
> Calculating possible classes...
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> Calculation finished.
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> Available classes:
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> * Heaven's Fool (unique)
Bob waited. Bob kept waiting. He knew what was happening but he didn’t want to acknowledge it just yet. When the message stayed frozen and no additional classes were added to the very short list, Bob shook his head and sighed. Come on, only one… That’s some right bull isn’t it.
> Choose your class:
Was that sarcastic? What was he supposed to choose, there was only the one option. Bob was angry now. He’d been through too much, lost too much. Somewhere far away from Bob, George was struggling, suffering, and without even understanding why Bob had abandoned him. Somewhere maybe George had... no. Bob tried to smash the screen in front of him. Except there was no screen; the message was floating in empty space, projected onto his vision by an all-seeing, badly-behaved system with a poor sense of humor. There was no appeal. There was no justice for the weak. The strong do what they can, the weak suffer what they must.
Bob resigned himself. Powerlessness. That was the true lesson of this system initiation. Hammered into each initiate by a relentless, arbitrary will. Bob did not like the sound of that class: “Heaven’s Fool.” Heaven’s warrior, Heaven’s chosen, Heaven’s champion, those were proper class names, those were classes Bob could get behind. Those were the seeds of legends. Heaven’s Fool, on the other hand…
> Choose your class
Fine, fine, oh mighty system… You can’t resist fate, he muttered to himself, as he pushed down on the option.
> Class: Heaven's Fool (unique)
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>
> Heaven watches and laughs
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>
> Level Bonus:
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> * major boost to luck
> * major boost to random base stat
> * minor boost to random base stat
> * token boost to random base stat
> * minor decrease to random base stat
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>
> Ability Tree: N/A (Slot machine - Each evolution, select a random ability)
This had to be worst class ever. All the stats were random and there was even a stat decrease each level? Bob wanted to cry. That was a slap in the face. Bob had a pretty good idea of just how system randomness worked. He didn’t think he’d ever encountered anything less random. Bob could see it now. Every level it would assign all his increases to “wisdom” or “vitality” or some other useless stat. Maybe pairing the increase with a sneering message saying how it hoped he had learned something new in the process.
He hadn’t fought through those four challenges only to be saddled with this dead-weight class and have to crawl around begging and praying to be saved as the system watched and laughed. There had to be another choice. He looked around for some back button. He tried voice commands: “back,” “return”, “restart,” “undo”. It all had no effect. Finally he tried, “mercy,” and he thought he heard a faint laugh far away. Ah that would be the heavens wouldn’t it?
Bob had just about worked his way down to the ability tree section by this point. That was when he really lost his head. No way, that is unbelievable. That is just too unfair. No concept, no complementary powers. You’ve just going to stick me with a random ability. That’s such BS. I bet everyone else is going to come back with cool, other-worldly powers and you’ll have assigned me a proficiency at card-tricks or gardening or some obscure and impossibly impractical weapon. At least let me choose something. I don’t get any free stats and I don’t even get to pick my abilities. Where’s my free will? Another distinct chuckle. Well at least Bob was living up to his new class.
He sighed loudly. “We’ll all powerless before the mighty system, I prostrate myself in fear, well whatever, if you aren’t going to play ball. We might as well get this over with. What ability are you going to screw me with this time?”