Tobias Edgar Diaz balanced a hotdog in one hand, a phone in the other, and his dignity... somewhere far behind him.
"Bro, I'm telling you," he said into his headset, weaving through the crowded Vancouver street, "you just gotta manifest it. Law of attraction. You think rich, you get rich."
On the other end, Derek snorted.
"You work at a frozen yogurt stand, man."
Tobias adjusted his grip on the dripping hotdog.
"Temporary setback. You think Jeff Bezos didn't sling ice cream at some point?"
The crosswalk light flashed, and Tobias jogged across, narrowly avoiding an angry cyclist.
Buildings towered overhead — shiny glass monoliths under a flawless blue sky.
The world felt... normal. Vibrant. Almost painfully alive.
It made what was coming feel even more cruel.
Twenty minutes later, Tobias slouched behind the counter of "Cool Cow Yogurt," doodling in a battered notebook labeled "Master Plan for Riches."
Steps:
Save money (current balance: $38.27)
Invest in Dogecoin (down 43%)
Become landlord
???
Retire rich
It was, in his professional opinion, foolproof.
"You see the news?" asked Anna, his coworker, tossing her apron onto a hook.
Her face was pinched with worry.
Tobias waved it off.
"What, the asteroid thing? Government's got it covered. Probably some SpaceX Elon Musk thing. They'll launch a billion rockets and boom — easy."
Anna didn't look convinced.
She pulled out her phone, showing a live broadcast.
On screen, an enormous black object — the asteroid — loomed in orbit, bigger than anything Tobias had imagined.
Every global leader seemed to be making a desperate, awkward speech.
"We're coordinating a nuclear intervention," one said, sweating through his suit.
"We remain hopeful," another declared, the corners of his mouth trembling.
Tobias squinted at the screen.
"Man, they're so dramatic. It's like a Michael Bay movie."
He reached for a sample cup, scooping himself a swirl of matcha yogurt.
That night, Tobias sat on the roof of his apartment, legs dangling over the edge, staring up at the heavens.
The stars were gone.
In their place hung the asteroid — black, cracked, and bleeding slow streams of blue light into the atmosphere.
It pulsed, almost like a heartbeat.
Down the block, people were lighting candles.
A few knelt in prayer.
Others hugged each other tightly, whispering things Tobias couldn't hear.
Derek climbed up beside him, carrying two beers.
He handed one over wordlessly.
They sat for a long time, just drinking and watching.
"You scared?" Derek asked eventually.
Tobias swung his legs.
"Nah. Worst case, I'll improvise. Life is just one big RNG roll anyway."
He said it like a joke.
Like always.
But deep inside, a tiny, stubborn part of him wondered if this was the one time his luck would run out.
The next morning, the city felt... strange.
The air had a static taste, like the world was holding its breath.
Emergency broadcasts took over every screen:
"NUCLEAR STRIKE INITIATED."
"CITIZENS REMAIN INDOORS."
"HOPE FOR THE BEST."
Tobias and Derek watched from inside a tiny Filipino bakery they liked — "Tita Mercy's Panaderia."
The owner, Mercy herself, handed out free pandesal to everyone, murmuring prayers under her breath.
Outside, the sky was changing.
It looked like someone had spilled ink into water — twisting black clouds spiraling unnaturally.
On the TV, they showed live feeds:
Dozens of missiles streaking into the atmosphere.
Explosions like miniature suns blooming against the asteroid.
BOOM
Everyone cheered when the first warhead hit.
Then gasped when the asteroid absorbed it... like it was drinking the energy.
The second, third, tenth missiles hit.
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
Nothing.
The asteroid cracked — but not from damage.
It split open, revealing a pulsing core of shifting runes and mechanical tendrils.
A final explosion of blue light flooded the screen.
Then the world shook.
Every car alarm in the city screamed.
Birds erupted into the sky.
Buildings groaned like they were breathing.
And in the sky, glowing fissures spread like spiderwebs, descending slowly toward the ground.
Tobias dropped his pandesal.
"Bro," he whispered.
"Maybe... maybe we do need to manifest some prayers."
Derek didn't respond.
He was staring at the space above Tobias's head — eyes wide, mouth open.
"Dude..." he croaked. "There's... there's words above you."
Tobias blinked.
"Huh?"
He turned — and saw it.
A holographic interface, hanging in mid-air like an AR game:
<< SYSTEM INTEGRATION COMPLETE >>
Planet Classification: Dungeon Seeded
Universal System Status: Online
Initializing Stat Allocation...
Initializing Class Framework...
Welcome to the Grand System. Survive. Thrive. Ascend.
The words burned into his mind.
He could feel something inside him changing — twisting.
Around him, the bakery's customers screamed.
Some clutched their heads.
Others knelt as if praying.
Mercy just crossed herself, whispering frantic prayers in Tagalog.
From the window, Tobias saw rips opening across the city skyline — shimmering cracks that pulsed with violet and gold.
Something was coming through.
Something not human.
But for now —
The world held its breath.
Waiting.
Tobias, always the master of crisis management, lifted his beer can like a toast.
"Welp," he said brightly, "plan B, boys."
"What's plan B?" Derek croaked.
Tobias shrugged.
"Same as plan A. Improvisation, baby."
The System's next message chimed in his vision:
<< BEGIN CLASS ASSIGNMENT >>
Analyzing Personal Data...
Analyzing Skillset...
Analyzing Luck Factor...
TO BE CONTINUED...