The ∞ symbol glowed on his phone screen, a stark white sigil against the dark, rain-streaked interface. It was a symbol of impossibility, a mathematical concept that had no place in the balance of a bank account. Yet, for Kai, it was the most concrete thing in his new reality. The rain still fell, cold and insistent, but it felt distant, an insignificant detail in a world that had fundamentally warped itself around him. The shivering, heartbroken boy who had collapsed onto this bench was a ghost, a memory from another lifetime that had ended less than an hour ago.
In his place was someone, or something, else. A being with eyes that saw the universe's source code and a wallet that contained the universe itself.
He dismissed the banking app and, with a strange sense of detachment, opened his contacts. The names stared back at him: 'Father', 'Mother', 'Elara'. The Eyes of Akasha provided a torrent of unwanted information next to each name. He saw their current locations—his parents pacing in their living room, already discussing how to spin the narrative of his failure; Elara at a celebratory dinner with her family, his name already a forgotten footnote. He saw their shallow desires, their petty ambitions, their futures now irrevocably disconnected from his own golden ascent. With three deliberate taps, he deleted their contacts. A clean slate.
His attention returned to the golden screen that hovered patiently before him.
"System," he murmured, the word feeling strange on his tongue. "What is my talent? Why was it ranked 'Unknown'?"
The golden script flowed gracefully in response.
Host's talent is [Luck]. It is not a conventional talent that manipulates a single element or physical law. It is a conceptual talent that bends the very fabric of causality and narrative to favor the host.
"So it's not a Rank-Zero Anomaly?" Kai asked, a bitter laugh escaping him.
Quite the contrary. The Nexus Stone, an S-Rank artifact, attempted to quantify your potential. The energy feedback from a destiny as absolute as yours overloaded its metaphysical circuits, causing it to register an error. Your rank is not 'Unknown' because it is too low. It is 'Unknown' because the scale is insufficient. Trying to measure your Luck would be like trying to measure the ocean with a teaspoon.
A cold, exhilarating power flooded Kai's veins, chasing away the last vestiges of his old self. He had been thrown away for possessing a power greater than any they could comprehend.
To put it in terms the host might appreciate, the System added, a hint of what could almost be described as personality coloring its text, Lady Luck is not your ally. She is your bitch.
Kai leaned back against the wet bench, the System's blunt statement echoing in his mind. He wasn't just lucky. He was the very definition of it. Causality was his plaything.
He needed a place to stay. He needed new clothes. He needed to wash the grime of his old life away.
With the Eyes of Akasha, he scanned the city. Information flooded his senses. He saw the penthouse suite of the most luxurious hotel in Aethelburg, The Celestial Spire, sitting empty. He saw its exorbitant price per night—a figure that would have made his father choke. He saw its security systems, its guest registry, its staff rota. He saw that the manager was a greedy, sycophantic man who worshiped wealth.
He stood up, leaving the suitcases of his old life sitting on the rain-soaked pavement without a second thought. They contained nothing but relics of a person who no longer existed. He started walking.
His cheap, worn-out clothes were soaked through, and his hair was plastered to his forehead, but his gait was steady and purposeful. People on the street gave him a wide berth, their expressions a mixture of pity and distaste for the drenched, seemingly homeless youth. If they could see the universe of data flowing through his eyes, the infinite wealth at his command, they would have knelt in terror.
The Celestial Spire was a monument to wealth and power, a gleaming needle of chrome and starlight that pierced the clouds. The lobby was a cavern of marble and gold, with hushed conversations taking place on plush velvet couches. A doorman in a crisp uniform moved to block Kai's path, his expression disdainful.
"Can I help you, sir?" The 'sir' was an insult.
Kai didn't even break his stride. He simply met the doorman's eyes. The Eyes of Akasha flared with imperceptible light, and he saw the man's immediate future: a reprimand from his manager for failing to stop the "vagrant," followed by a potential dismissal. A simple, unpleasant path. Kai subtly nudged it.
The doorman opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly froze. A wave of inexplicable dread washed over him. He looked at Kai, and for a split second, he didn't see a drenched teenager. He saw an apex predator, a being of immense and terrible power. His training, his arrogance, his very instinct screamed at him to step aside. He did so without a word, his face pale.
Kai walked directly to the front desk. The concierge, a woman with a practiced, plastic smile, looked up. Her smile faltered as she took in his appearance.
"I'm sorry, sir, but loitering is not..."
"I require the Celestial Penthouse," Kai stated, his voice calm and even. It was not a request.
The woman blinked, momentarily stunned by his audacity. A snort of derisive laughter came from the lobby manager, a portly man named Mr. Silas, who was gliding over to intervene.
"Son, I think you're in the wrong place," Silas said, his voice oozing condescension. "The soup kitchen is three blocks east."
Kai turned his gaze to Silas. The Eyes of Akasha went to work, laying the man's soul bare. He saw Silas's mounting debts from a gambling addiction, his skimming from the hotel's books, his secret affair with a junior staff member. He saw the man's core motivation: a desperate, clawing greed.
"Silas, your offshore account in the Cayman Islands, account number 74B-988, currently holds 1.2 million credits you have embezzled over the past three years," Kai said quietly. "If I were to make a single phone call to the Financial Crimes Division, your career would be over before the next sunrise. You would be trading this fine suit for a prison jumpsuit."
Silas's face went from ruddy pink to corpse-white in a heartbeat. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The concierge stared, her jaw slack.
"Who… who are you?" Silas stammered, his arrogance evaporating into pure, unadulterated fear.
"I am your new reality," Kai replied, his tone flat. He turned back to the concierge. "The Celestial Penthouse. Now."
The woman fumbled with her terminal, her hands shaking so badly she could barely type. "Of course, sir. Right away, sir. W-will you be paying by card?"
Kai simply held up his phone, the infinite symbol glowing on its screen. As he did, a notification pinged on the hotel's financial terminal. Silas saw it out of the corner of his eye. It was a wire transfer confirmation. The amount was so large, the system couldn't display the numbers; it just showed a string of error messages. It was as if the Bank of Aethelburg itself had just bowed to their mysterious guest.
"The key, please," Kai said, his patience wearing thin.
A platinum keycard was practically thrown into his hand.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr…?" the concierge trailed off, realizing she didn't even have his name.
"It doesn't matter," Kai said, turning and walking toward the private elevator, leaving two terrified and utterly bewildered hotel employees in his wake.
The penthouse was less of a room and more of a palace in the sky. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Aethelburg, the city lights twinkling like a conquered kingdom at his feet. The luxury was obscene, from the polished marble floors to the ridiculously oversized bed.
He stripped off his wet, cheap clothes—the last remnants of his old life—and left them in a pile on the floor. He walked into the cavernous bathroom and stood under the scalding spray of the rain shower, letting the water wash away the filth and humiliation of the day.
When he emerged, wrapped in a plush robe that cost more than his old monthly allowance, he felt… reborn. The despair was gone, replaced by a chilling sense of clarity. The world hadn't ended. His had. And a new one, one of his own making, was just beginning.
He picked up the hotel's integrated tablet, a device for room service and other amenities. With his EX-Rank Authority, he didn't need to order. He simply willed. He wanted clothes. The best.
He accessed the network of the city's most exclusive, invitation-only tailor. Their system, protected by advanced firewalls, opened for him as if he were its administrator. He didn't browse. The Eyes of Akasha instantly identified the finest materials, the most skilled craftsmanship. He compiled a full wardrobe—suits, casual wear, shoes, accessories—all custom-fitted to his exact measurements, which the system already seemed to know. He set the delivery time to one hour from now. Payment was a non-issue; the tailor's accounts simply registered the order as pre-paid in full by an anonymous, infinitely wealthy benefactor.
Next, he needed a phone. His current one was a cracked relic. He accessed the R&D servers of Chronos Corp, the world's leading tech giant. He bypassed their security, found the schematics for their next-generation prototype—a device three years ahead of the market—and commissioned a single, untraceable unit to be fabricated and delivered with his clothes.
Food. He was starving. He didn't bother with the room service menu. He accessed the private kitchen of the city's most celebrated chef, a man famous for a dish that used ingredients from S-Rank monster zones, a meal that cost fifty thousand credits per plate. He saw the chef's schedule, knew he was preparing for the evening's service, and simply placed an order directly into his workflow. The chef would see it, assume it was from a guest of unimaginable importance, and prepare it without question.
In less than ten minutes, he had arranged a new life. No paperwork, no credit checks, no questions. The world simply bent to his will.
As he waited, he stood before the vast window, looking down at the city. He could see the Vane family estate, a brightly lit mansion where they were no doubt toasting Elara's A-Rank future. He could see the district where his former parents lived, their home a tiny speck in the sprawling metropolis. They were all so small, so insignificant, their ambitions and schemes like the frantic movements of ants.
The System's interface reappeared.
Host has successfully established a new baseline of existence. Daily and Weekly quests are now available. Would you like to view them?
"Quests?" Kai asked.
Quests provide opportunities to generate Fate Points (FP), which can be used for additional Gacha pulls. Actions that significantly alter your destiny or the destiny of others generate the most FP.
This was the currency of the System. Not money. Fate itself.
"Show me."
[Daily Quest]: Consume a meal worth more than 10,000 credits. (Reward: 1 FP)[Daily Quest]: Sleep in a bed worth more than 50,000 credits. (Reward: 1 FP)[Weekly Quest]: Establish a net worth greater than 100 billion credits. (Reward: 10 FP)
Kai almost laughed. The quests were laughably simple. He would complete the first two tonight without even trying. The third one… he had technically already completed it the moment his Authority awakened.
Weekly quest has been auto-completed due to the nature of the EX-Rank Authority: [The World is My Wallet]. 10 FP awarded.
A new counter appeared on his screen: [FP: 10].
The [PULL] button, which had been greyed out, now glowed with a soft golden light. It cost 10 FP for a single pull.
He had the chance to gain another SSS-Rank or higher ability, right now. The temptation was immense. He could pull a power that would make him the strongest Awakener on the planet overnight.
But a new, cold logic governed his thoughts now. He had infinite wealth and perfect knowledge. He had time. There was no need to rush. He would learn, he would plan, and he would pull when the moment was right.
A knock came at the penthouse door. His clothes and his new phone had arrived. His new life was being delivered to his doorstep.
He walked to the door, the plush robe swishing around his ankles. He was no longer Kai Locke, the discarded failure. That boy was a bad dream.
He was the Monarch of Chance. And his reign was just beginning.