Scene: "Beginner's Luck" – Milo's First Combat Encounter in Sector Six
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The skies above Sector Six hung hazy with warm breeze, stray leaves fluttering lazily through the open dirt paths.
Milo walked calmly with his party—Aden adjusting his glasses beside him, Rhea (the pink-haired girl) chewing something sweet with a mild bounce to her step, Kale the stoic black-haired rogue trailing behind like a shadow, and Branton, their boulder-armed tank, carrying both a mace and half their gear casually on his shoulder.
> "Camp's pretty quiet," Milo murmured.
> "Too quiet," Branton said with a grin, his instincts tingling. "Which usually means something's about to try and eat us."
Before Milo could reply—
A loud, guttural screech shattered the calm.
From behind a nearby tarp-covered supply shed, a beast emerged, its body warped with glowing red Vita cracks, steam seeping from its joints. It looked like a mutated chimera of wild boar and stonehound, twice the size of a grown man and definitely not natural.
Its eyes shimmered strangely, touched not only by elemental mutation but a strange aura—a hint of old magic, like a seal broken.
> "That's not just a normal blue-rank," Aden warned, already conjuring a blast in his hands. "Something's wrong with its structure."
> "It's unstable," Kale muttered.
The beast roared and slammed a paw into the ground, sending chunks of dirt flying toward the group.
Everyone braced—
Except Milo, who instinctively flinched back and tripped on a cracked root in the ground.
> "Whoaa—!"
He fell backwards onto his butt, just as—
THUNK.
A nearby wooden log, previously standing upright like a fence post, suddenly creaked, snapped, and fell.
With a deafening crash, the log slammed down perfectly across the creature's skull with surgical comedic precision.
The beast gave a confused grunt—eyes rolling back—and collapsed, unconscious before anyone had even landed a hit.
Dust settled.
Silence.
> "...Did he just—" Aden began.
> "No way," Rhea whispered, eyes wide.
Branton dropped his mace slowly, blinking at the scene.
Milo, still on the ground, looked at the now-unmoving creature, then at the shattered stump of the log, then back at his party.
> "...I meant to do that."
Kale raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but intrigued.
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Later, back at camp...
> "He knocked out a red-infused beast with luck?" Nico was furious hearing the story second-hand.
> "That's not fair!!" Garrick laughed, slapping his knee.
Fern raised an eyebrow while sipping tea. Sorrel simply nodded and muttered, "Milo... still attracts fate like a flame does moths."
Meanwhile, Riven, reading a report nearby, sighed.
> "We're going to have to test this 'good luck' nonsense. That's not a viable combat strategy."
But Goldie smiled to herself.
> "It's viable if it works."
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Scene: "Chosen Again" – Milo's Accidental Triumph
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The crowd had gathered fast. Word spread faster.
A red-infused monster, knocked out clean? No injuries? No casualties? Just a giant log and a lucky stumble?
Blue-ranked Travelers, goblins, and even some of Riven's own allies stood around the collapsed beast in utter disbelief, murmuring and clapping as the tension evaporated.
> "That's the new hero, right?"
"He didn't even raise a weapon—"
"He's so cool!"
"Is that a spell? Did he control the log?"
"No, no—it's good luck. Arch Lord–level good luck!"
Milo blinked as the crowd began to cheer.
> "MILO! MILO! MILO!"
He stood in the middle of it all—grayish clothes slightly dusty, blonde hair tousled, his skybird watching from a perch nearby like a smug mascot.
His party was silent.
Branton stared with his arms crossed and a bemused smile.
Rhea was already waving at the crowd like she expected this.
Kale remained still and unreadable, arms behind his back.
Aden muttered something into a notebook about "log trajectories" and "spatial probability multipliers."
Milo looked around, awkwardly smiling, scratching the back of his neck.
> "Uh... thanks, I guess?"
"I didn't really—"
"It just kinda fell..."
The cheering only got louder.
Someone tossed him a Mysticoin. Another offered a sandwich. Someone tried to sketch his face for a flyer.
> "Why does this keep happening..." Milo mumbled under his breath, overwhelmed.
He had that same distant, semi-panicked look of someone being chosen again for something he hadn't signed up for.
> "Wasn't this supposed to be... like, a quiet camp?"
From behind the crowd, Oliver watched, leaning against a tree. Fern stood next to him, arms folded, stoic.
> "They really like him, huh?" Oliver muttered.
> "It seems fate favors fools... or perhaps the brave," Fern replied with a serene smile.
> "You don't think he planned that, do you?"
"Not a chance."
Even Sorrel, peeking from Oliver's backpack, let out a soft chuckle.
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In that moment, Milo stood in the heart of Sector Six, the crowd still chanting his name—
A new face, but already a legend in the making...
Or at least a very, very lucky one.
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