Probability does not recognize surnames.
It does not remember dynasties, flags, corporations, or the long, decaying genealogies of power. It does not bow to inherited wealth, political bloodlines, or titles passed like embalmed organs from one generation to the next.
The old world insisted on pretending otherwise.
It built itself on inheritance — of authority, of resources, of safety — and called that continuity. It taught entire populations to accept their place in advance, while the same names recycled privilege and mistook repetition for merit.
Lubip despised this system not because it was inefficient, but because it was a direct hit to his faith.
A closed circuit masquerading as history. A rigged game pretending to be civilization.
"Probability is not cruel. Probability is honest."
Lubip returned to those thoughts the way others returned to breath. Not as a prayer spoken aloud, but as a certainty that required no defense.
"She does not reward effort.
She does not punish ignorance."
Those were human expectations, clung to out of desperation, not variables that ever mattered.
"She does not care about justice, intention, or fairness.
She only answers to distribution."
And distribution, Lubip knew, never lied.
Before the Goddess of Probability, emperors and scavengers occupy the same numerical space. Their past collapses into noise. Their future becomes a dice roll they do not control.
————
The world did not darken and there was no thunder, no divine light, no sensation of ascension. The voice simply appeared, without coming from above or from within, lacking tone, gender, or emotional residue, too clear to be human and too simple to sound intelligent.
[ "SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE" ]
Leon staggered as words began to form directly between his thoughts, aligned and structured in a way that made them impossible to ignore, competing with the persistent pain in his electrocuted hand.
"Great," he muttered, looking up at the still normal sky. "Now the sky is talking to me."
[ "Welcome player Leon. World state has transitioned to a game-based operational framework. Rule updates are now in the process of implantation. Failure to acknowledge this transition may result in critical decision errors during the initial phase. Survival probabilities are highest when compliance begins immediately." ]
Leon laughed, dry and incredulous, the sound cutting short as another sharp surge of pain tore through his hand. "Of course it is," he said, voice tight. "Now I'm supposed to swallow all of this without question, like a blind religious extremist, just nod and accept whatever nonsense gets projected into my head."
The pain flared again, hot and insistent, radiating up his arm with a precision no dream had any right to possess. It wasn't the dull blur of a hallucination or the soft inconsistency of a fading memory — it was focused, deliberate, demanding attention.
And that was the problem…
The sensation grounded him, dragged him back into his own body, making disbelief feel irresponsible. A part of him began to suspect that ignoring this might be more dangerous than believing it.
["Rule Nº 1: Probability does not care who you are."]
Leon laughed once, sharp. "Of course it doesn't care. It just has an incredible memory for who already has everything.
Tell that to everyone born without money, without a name, without a future already written for them."
[ Humanity was already converging toward self-extinction. Initialization requirements met.]
The statement was not spoken but installed, followed by cold data rather than visions, projections of a planet already collapsing, extinction curves accelerating toward zero.
"Oh, so this is a feature, not a bug," Leon said. "That's comforting."
[" Global Subject Reclassification in Progress."]
["Eighty percent of random human subjects will transition into irrational operational states.
Classification: Beasts."]
["These entities will exhibit randomized super-human capabilities, with exponential growth potential proportional to survival duration. Cognitive degradation is irreversible and will intensify over time. Reproductive capacities are maximized"]
["Twenty percent of human subjects will receive clearance.
Classification: Spared."]
["Clearance does not imply safety. It authorizes participation in the secondary allocation process.Spared subjects will undergo a secondary probability roll.
Outcome: Assignment of a random rarity Primordial Survival Item." ]
["Item rarity is distributed as follows:
• Common — 55% probability
• Uncommon — 25% probability
• Rare — 15% probability
• Extraordinary — 4% probability
• Supreme — 0.9999999999% probability
• Emperor — 0.0000000001% probability"]
["Higher rarity correlates with broader functional scope and greater deviation from baseline limitations."]
["Common-class items, while limited in raw potential, receive enhanced adaptive tuning.
These items demonstrate increased synergy with the host's existing aptitudes, cognitive patterns, and learned behaviors, resulting in higher reliability and efficiency within narrow operational domains."]
["ALL ASSIGNMENTS ARE FINAL."]
The information kept coming, dense and unrelenting, until Leon felt his thoughts slow under the weight of it. There was no fog, no dreamlike blur, no comforting loss of control — his mind remained painfully awake, forced to track every rule, every percentage, every implication. The sustained clarity was exhausting in itself, the kind of awareness dreams never demanded and never allowed.
This was far too detailed to be a dream.
He thought of his life not as memories, but as repetition: near misses, delayed failures, chances that almost aligned before sliding away at the last moment. A long practice in being just below whatever threshold mattered.
"Yeah," he said quietly, already tired of the conclusion that had yet to come. "I'm definitely in the eighty percent."
The interface paused, as if considering its next move.
Then a roulette wheel erupted into existence, painfully bright and unapologetically ridiculous, drenched in flashing lights, celebratory jingles, and spinning at a speed that served no purpose beyond mockery. The pointer rattled as if impatient, overselling suspense that no one had asked for.
Leon watched it in silence, eyes dull with fatigue.
"…Of course there's a roulette," he said.
" OOOH, look at that! HOHOHOH… A fully conscious human, still negotiating with denial!" Said the roulette.
"Will he be emotionally crushed today, or just mildly traumatized? Spinning now for SPARED or BEAST status. Please place your nonexistent bets — house always wins!"
The wheel screamed into motion, lights flaring, sound effects cheering far harder than the moment deserved. Leon watched the display in exhausted disbelief before finally speaking.
"Why," he asked flatly, "are you like this?"
The wheel slowed. Drifted. Teased a rollback. Then locked into place.
"CONGRATULATIONS! You have avoided immediate monstrous transformation! A truly inspiring lack of horror."
Leon froze, then laughed — sharp, breathless, halfway between relief and shock. "You're serious?" he said. "That actually worked? I survive?"
A wave of artificial happiness surged through him, warm, invasive, perfectly tuned. He smiled before he could stop himself and immediately hated that he did.
"I knew it," he said, pointing weakly at the air. "Statistically doomed my ass."
The response came instantly, delighted.
"OH, I ADORE CONFIDENCE. It's statistically correlated with disappointment. Let's continue."
Leon's smile faltered. "I don't like where this is going."
The wheel spun again, now marked with rarity tiers in oversized letters, slowing as it passed Rare, then Uncommon, trembling just long enough to give him hope.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay, I can work with uncommon."
The pointer settled.
"COMMON! Hahahahahahhaha…"
Leon stared at it. "…You have got to be kidding me."
There was a brief silence, then laughter came again, worse than before, followed by a cruel remark:
"Statistically appropriate. Emotionally devastating. Most people peak exactly where they always belonged."
Leon exhaled slowly. "You know what? Screw you. I survived. That's already above average."
The interface collapsed, taking the artificial happiness with it.
He looked down at his right hand as a dark metallic connector cable emerged from the center of his burned palm, too organic to be mere technology, rooted into his flesh as if it had always belonged there.
Leon's voice dropped. "That's… new."
The system did not respond, but the roulette left one final comment, echoing with delight.
"Cheer up. Common doesn't mean useless. It just means no one will ever be impressed… MUWAHAHAHAHAHA…"
Leon stood there, breathing, the world silent again, staring at the cable in his hand.