《Luck: The Luckless Hero》 BOOK 1: Chapter 1 ¡°Why am I sooooo unlucky?¡± is something a million people have said a million times, but in the case of Malick Tychandros, a genuinely unlucky guy, it¡¯s warranted. Bad things always happen to him. Bird flys by? Poop incoming. Car is running fine. Till it¡¯s not. Shoelaces? Untied. *** Malickandreus Tychandros¡ªor Malick, as his friends called him¡ªwas running late for his job interview. Well, technically, he¡¯d be on time if traffic was normal. But he had long since accepted that traffic was never normal. At least once a week, he¡¯d find himself stuck in a jam, forced into a detour, or caught behind someone who apparently mistook the gas pedal for a suggestion. Today, he was really hoping it wouldn¡¯t be one of those days. Unfortunately, it was absolutely one of those days. CLUNK. CLUNK. PHHHHSHHHH. His 2020 Toyoga Branmby, which had been running perfectly fine yesterday, had just transformed into an expensive metal brick right in the middle of the road. And during rush hour, no less. He had specifically chosen this car for its reputation for reliability. ¡®Guess that was a bold-faced lie,¡¯ he thought dryly, listening to the chorus of furious honking behind him. Cars swerved around him, drivers glaring as they sped past. These people all had places to be, things to do, and now, thanks to him, they were probably going to be late. Somewhere among them, a man who had also been on his way to the exact same job interview grumbled, ¡°Just my luck!¡± as he got stuck in the jam Malick had just caused. Ironically, that guy even though he would be late, would probably make it. Malick? Not a chance. ¡®Looks like I¡¯m the one causing the delays today,¡¯ Malick mused, somewhat amused. After a lifetime of what felt like constant bad luck, he had learned to roll with the punches. It was either laugh about it or complain endlessly, and Malick had long since chosen laughter. He sighed, pulled out his phone, and made two calls. The first: to the company, letting them know he¡¯d been unexpectedly detained (which, honestly, was putting it lightly). The second: to AMMA. It was already on his favorites list. A few minutes later, a familiar tow truck pulled up. The driver leaned out the window, smirking. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you just get a better car by now?¡± Malick climbed in, groaning. ¡°Oh, trust me, I would¡ªif my wallet wasn¡¯t allergic to financial stability.¡± The driver just laughed and took him to the usual garage. *** The tow truck rumbled into the garage, Malick¡¯s poor, suffering car in tow. ¡°Hey Chuck, look who¡¯s back!¡± the driver called out, leaning out the window with a grin. Chuck glanced up from under the hood of another car and smirked. ¡°Malick! My favorite customer!¡± Malick grimaced. ¡°You know, you guys should really have a punch card or something. Buy ten repairs, get one free. At this rate, I¡¯d probably have a platinum membership by now.¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Chuck wiped his hands on a rag and shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s weird, man. The car itself is fine. No major issues. Every time you come in, it¡¯s just little stuff¡ªspark plugs, fuel valves, random things that shouldn¡¯t constantly break down.¡± Malick crossed his arms. ¡°And yet, somehow, I¡¯m in here at least once a month.¡± Chuck shrugged. ¡°Well, maybe you should just sell it.¡± Malick exhaled dramatically. ¡°Oh yeah, great idea. Then I can drive¡­ what exactly? A bicycle? A pack mule? A Segwa?¡± Chuck snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe something that actually works?¡± Malick gave him a deadpan look. ¡°That¡¯s funny. You have no idea. This is the more reliable car. The last one broke down every week¡ªthis one only does it monthly.¡± Chuck stared at him, tossing the rag onto a workbench. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡± Malick shook his head. ¡°Nope. That last car was basically held together with hope and prayers.¡± Chuck let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn. Alright, let¡¯s pop the hood and see what this one¡¯s whining about now.¡± After about an hour of tinkering, checking, and muttering about ¡°cursed vehicles,¡± Chuck straightened up. Chuck wiped his hands on his greasy coveralls and let out a sigh. ¡°Alright, so here¡¯s the deal¡ªlooks like it¡¯s just another minor problem. We¡¯ll replace the faulty part, do a quick tune-up, and make sure nothing else is about to betray you on the road.¡± Malick raised an eyebrow. ¡°And the damage?¡± Chuck tapped a few numbers into the shop¡¯s computer. ¡°Labor, parts¡­ yeah, looks like you¡¯re looking at about $162.¡± Malick let out a long-suffering sigh as he pulled out his Vizex card. ¡°Here we go again.¡± *** Malick pulled into his apartment complex, his car making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. He shut off the engine and gave the dashboard a light pat. ¡°Try not to die overnight, alright?¡± The car clicked in response, which he took as either passive aggression or a desperate cry for help. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed toward his unit¡ªonly to pause when he saw a familiar figure hauling boxes down the stairs. His girlfriend. Well, ex, apparently. She was halfway through stuffing a duffel bag into the trunk of her car when she spotted him. Instead of looking surprised or guilty, she just rolled her eyes. ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to be at your interview? And then the gym?¡± Malick blinked. Wow. No shame. No hesitation. Just straight-up acting like he was the one with weird timing. ¡°Yeah, well,¡± he said, crossing his arms. ¡°Car broke down, had to get it towed, spent a small fortune fixing it, so¡­ kinda threw off my schedule. But hey, great to see you had a productive morning. Packing up all your stuff¡ªwhat, spontaneous spring cleaning?¡± She huffed and slammed the trunk shut. ¡°I was gonna text you later.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. Lemme guess¡ªwe need to talk?¡± She shrugged. ¡°I mean, we do.¡± Malick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Lemme save us both some time. You¡¯ve been cheating, you¡¯re moving out, and I¡¯m supposed to feel like an idiot for not noticing sooner. That about right?¡± She shifted uncomfortably, which meant yes. ¡°Cool, cool,¡± Malick nodded. ¡°And let me guess¡ªhe doesn¡¯t know you¡¯re actually a nightmare to live with right?¡± Her eye twitched. ¡°You know, you could at least act a little upset.¡± ¡°Oh, trust me, I am. But also? I just shelled out $162 to keep my car from dying again, so honestly? You getting out of my life for free is almost a win.¡± She scoffed, muttered something under her breath, and climbed into her car without another word. Malick watched as she pulled out of the lot, disappearing down the street like a bad investment he¡¯d finally cut loose. He let out a deep breath and turned back toward his apartment. ¡°Alright. Time to see if anything in my fridge isn¡¯t expired.¡± *** The more Malick thought about his now ex-girlfriend and how she¡¯d been cheating on him for who knows how long, the more he realized¡ªhe¡¯d seen the signs. He¡¯d known. He had just convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, things would turn around. Now? He mostly just wanted to punch himself in the face. ¡®Why do I keep making such dumb decisions?¡¯ He sighed, yanked open the fridge, and surveyed the contents. Expired milk. Expired yogurt. A takeout box that might have been from last week but also might have been from last month. And then, in the midst of all this biohazard material¡ª Beer. ¡°Guess dinner¡¯s sorted,¡± he muttered, grabbing a can and cracking it open. His ex had been a terrible cook. Most of their meals had come from FoodGrub, and every time he suggested she try learning, she¡¯d wave him off with a dismissive, ¡°I will! I¡¯m just so busy with acting right now!¡± ¡®Acting, huh?¡¯ ¡®How much money did I drop on those lessons?¡¯ How much had he spent supporting her, covering rent, buying food, making sure she could chase her dreams while she was busy sneaking around with some other guy? He took a long sip of his beer, the bitterness fitting his mood perfectly. ¡®That¡¯s my problem, isn¡¯t it? Always trying to be the nice guy. Always hoping things will turn around. But they never do. Do they?¡¯ And just like that, he spiraled. Straight into the familiar pit of self-pity, beer in hand, overanalyzing every dumb choice he¡¯d made. At some point, he considered putting on some sad music. Maybe something dark and depressing. Maybe something goth like the Sisters of Mercies, really lean into the moment. But before he could complete his descent into full-on melancholic beer-drinking protagonist mode, something slid under his door. A flyer. Malick stared at it for a moment, then down at his beer. ¡®¡­That better not be for acting lessons.¡¯ Chapter 2 Malick¡¯s evening took an unexpected turn the moment he picked up the flyer under his door. Printed in bold letters, it announced the grand opening of a new bar¡ªThe Last Drop¡ªjust around the corner, with ¡°First Round¡¯s Half Off!¡± as it¡¯s tempting promise. ¡®Half off? Well, that¡¯ll help me forget about this miserable day,¡¯ he thought, cracking open the last beer in his fridge. Before he knew it, Malick found himself at The Last Drop, the neon sign flickering like a beacon for the hopeless and the hopeful alike. Fueled by a cocktail of heartbreak and cheap beer, he settled onto a stool at the bar. ¡°Bartender! It¡¯s half off right?¡± ¡°Yes sir, what can I get you?¡± ¡°Tequila. 4 shots!¡± ¡°Coming right up.¡± With his fourth shot of tequila warming him from the inside, he felt invincible. In a moment of boozy bravado, Maluck stood up onto his bar stool and bellowed, ¡°I am the best person in this entire town, and my ex is a bitch!¡± His voice echoed through the room as he attempted a motivational speech about his own greatness while precariously balancing on the seat, wobbling like his life choices. The crowd¡¯s response was less than encouraging¡ªbooing and laughter rippled around him. ¡°Get down!¡± ¡°You¡¯re drunk!¡± But Maluck only doubled down, slurring, ¡°You just don¡¯t appreciate my greatness!¡± *** POV: Astral Universe Somewhere in the Astral Universe, the abstract embodiment of Pride gave a nod of intrigue. ¡°Ooh this guys interesting.¡± *** POV: Calgary After getting warned, and told to sit down, barely recovering from his self-aggrandizing moment, Malick¡¯s eyes landed on a couple dancing together near the jukebox. Their effortless chemistry and perfect smiles stirred a bitter envy in him. He loudly complained to anyone within earshot, ¡°Why can¡¯t I have that? Look at them¡ªperfect chemistry, perfect moves! I bet they don¡¯t even fight over who gets the last chicken wing!¡± As he made a clumsy attempt to photobomb their selfies, he muttered under his breath about how ¡°some people have all the luck.¡± Even in his drunken haze, he could almost feel Envy scribbling down notes on his misfortunes. No sooner had the dance floor debacle subsided than a drunken patron accidentally bumped into him, sending a ripple of spilled beer in his wake. Malick¡¯s eyes flared with a sudden, explosive anger. ¡°DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU JUST SPILLED BEER ON?!¡± he roared, grabbing a handful of coasters and launching them like off-target ninja stars. *** POV: Astral Universe Each wild toss missed its mark, yet his furious performance drew an approving, if bemused, nod from the unspoken spirit of Wrath. Wrath had flown over when Envy and Pride told him an interesting human had appeared on Earth *** POV: Calgary After the coaster fiasco, Malick¡¯s mood shifted. He slumped onto a sagging couch in a shadowed corner of the bar, pulling out his phone to scroll through his ex¡¯s social media. ¡®I should block her¡­ but maybe I¡¯ll wait until she sees what she¡¯s missing,¡¯ he mused, completely absorbed in the digital parade of her so-called perfect life. His inactivity was so profound that even the bartender paused mid-polish to ask if he was okay. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. *** POV: Astral Universe In that suspended moment, the embodiment of Sloth couldn¡¯t help but smirk at his dedication to doing absolutely nothing. *** POV: Calgary Eventually, Malick dragged himself off the couch and staggered back to the bar, where his eyes caught sight of an unattended tip bowl. ¡°Finders keepers,¡± he whispered to himself, snatching a few crumpled bills before ordering yet another round. Emboldened by his little heist, he leaned in to convince the bartender to give him a discount on his shot. ¡°Come on, man, I¡¯m your best customer and it¡¯s opening night!¡± he slurred. *** POV: Astral Universe The unspoken spirit of Greed clinked glasses with Pride in approval, both toasting Maluck¡¯s audacity as if egging him on to make even worse decisions. *** POV: Calgary Not long after, hunger overtook him. Maluck decided the best way to celebrate his shitty day was by ordering everything on the menu¡ªburger, fries, nachos, wings, and a generous side of chili cheese fries, because why stop at mild regret when you can aim for a full-blown existential crisis? When the bartender raised an eyebrow and asked, ¡°You sure you want all that?¡± Maluck, with the unwavering confidence of a man four shots deep, grinned defiantly. ¡°I¡¯ll show her what living my best life looks like!¡± Twenty minutes later, his feast arrived in all its glorious, artery-clogging greasiness. With the speed and ferocity of a competitive eater who had something to prove, he attacked the mountain of food, drawing cheers from the onlookers. For a brief, shining moment, Maluck wasn¡¯t just a heartbroken drunk¡ªhe was a legend. ** POV: Astral Universe Gluttony couldn¡¯t hide its delight at Malick¡¯s overindulgence. Him and all his fellow Sins had gathered around in the Astral Universe and were all cheering for this human. *** POV: Calgary As the night wore on and the alcohol loosened any remaining inhibitions, Malick found himself drawn to the karaoke stage. Fueled by a potent mix of booze and bitter memories, he took the mic and launched into a disastrously off-key rendition of ¡°Careful Whispers.¡± With exaggerated passion, he dedicated the performance to everyone who had ever betrayed him, winking at half the room as he concluded, ¡°If you¡¯re single tonight, so am I!¡± *** POV: Astral Universe ¡°Hey Lust! Looks like the human is a fan of yours!¡± Said Pride with an arrogant smirk. Lust had to agree, despite the collective secondhand embarrassment that followed. *** POV: Calgary By the time Malick finally staggered out of The Last Drop, the neon glow of the bar fading behind him, he was blissfully unaware of the cosmic followers he¡¯d just accrued. In his drunken haze, all the Seven Sins had taken a keen interest in his actions, silently nodding their approval. ¡®I really have a shit life, don¡¯t I?¡¯ he thought with a rueful smile, as the cool night air greeted him and his half-empty bottle in his hand. *** POV: Astral Universe ¡°You know how those goody two-shoes keep pushing for that joint human supervision project? I think we can use this guy,¡± Pride said. The other Sins started chatting amongst themselves. Sloth groaned, stretching lazily in his cosmic seat. ¡°Ugh, paperwork, meetings¡­ supervising humans sounds exhausting.¡± Greed, still swirling a golden chalice of something unnaturally expensive, scoffed. ¡°Not if we do it our way, sugar. We let him be himself, give him a little nudge in the right¡ªor should I say wrong¡ªdirection, and boom. Instant luck points.¡± Wrath cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming. ¡°If it means more drunken brawls, brah, I¡¯m in.¡± Envy flipped through his ever-growing list of grievances. ¡°Fine, I guess. But don¡¯t even think about it¡ªI¡¯m calling dibs on making him miserable, and I¡¯m not about to share that misery quota with all of you.¡± Gluttony licked his lips. ¡°And I want to see just how much indulgence a single mortal can handle.¡± Lust, still recovering from Felix¡¯s disastrous karaoke performance, rubbed her temples. ¡°If I must. But darling, I¡¯ll take it upon myself to refine his flirting¡ªbecause that pitiful little display was simply agonizing to witness.¡± Pride grinned, draping an arm over his throne. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled! We¡¯ll crown him our emissary on Earth¡ªa living testament to our divine superiority and the flawless embodiment of our most exquisite qualities.¡± A hush fell over the Sins as they turned their gaze back to Maluck, who was currently drunkenly wandering around, attempting to high-five a potted plant. Sloth yawned. ¡°So, uh¡­ do we actually tell him about this? Or just¡­ let him roll with it?¡± Pride smirked. ¡°Why ruin the fun? Let¡¯s just find a way to nudge him in the right direction.¡± Chapter 3 Maluck stumbled through the dimly lit streets, still buzzing from the drinks he¡¯d downed at the bar. His mind was a blur, his steps slightly uneven¡ªsomewhere between a confident strut and a newborn deer on ice¡ªwhen a neon OPEN sign caught his eye. ¡®A sign! Literally!¡¯ his booze-soaked brain declared. Clearly, fate itself was guiding him toward¡­ whatever this place was. Food? More booze? Life-changing wisdom from a late-night psychic? Didn¡¯t matter. Destiny was calling, and Maluck, in all his drunken glory, was ready to answer. A small, shady fortune teller¡¯s shop stood tucked between two closed storefronts, looking like it had been surviving off sheer stubbornness and questionable tax practices. A dusty crystal ball sat in the window, next to a hand-painted sign that read ¡°NO REFUNDS, NO EXCEPTIONS¡±, which felt less like a business policy and more like a warning. Above the entrance, a banner hung in bold, slightly peeling letters: ¡°CHANGE YOUR LUCK NOW!¡± Malick squinted at it, swaying slightly. His luck had always been terrible¡ªepically, catastrophically bad. Just last week, he found a $20 bill on the ground, only to be dive-bombed by a pigeon mid-celebration. His most recent attempt at cooking ended with a small kitchen fire, a visit from the landlord, and an intense SkeweSearch for ¡°how to get the smell of burnt failure out of an apartment.¡± Maybe this was the universe finally throwing him a bone. Or maybe it was just the tequila talking. ¡®Either way,¡¯ he thought, gripping the door handle for balance, ¡®what¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡¯ Pushing open the creaky wooden door, he stepped inside. The shop smelled¡­ strange. A mix of incense, dust, and something faintly herbal. The dim interior was cluttered with odd trinkets¡ªjade figurines, strange masks, stacks of yellowing papers with cryptic symbols. Behind the counter sat an old Chinese man, who looked like he had walked straight out of the 1980s movie Grimlimgs. The old man peered at Malick with a knowing gaze, his deep-set eyes gleaming like embers beneath his heavy brows. His robe, adorned with faintly shimmering embroidery, gave the impression of ancient wisdom rather than mere age. The air around him carried the faint scent of incense and something older¡ªlike parchment left untouched for centuries. ¡°Young man, are you seeking a fortune?¡± he asked, his voice low and resonant, as if layered with echoes from beyond the veil. ¡°Nooo, I wanna changed muh luck!¡± Malick slurred, his words dragging together as he clung to the counter for balance. The old man stroked his wispy silver beard, nodding as though he had been expecting this request. ¡°Hmm¡­ tell me your birth date,¡± he murmured, his fingers already reaching for a piece of aged parchment. Malick complied, and with steady hands, the old man inscribed the information in ink that shimmered ever so slightly under the dim lantern light. Without another word, he turned and retrieved a massive tome bound in cracked, dark leather. Arcane symbols adorned its surface, shifting almost imperceptibly as he laid it on the table. He flipped through the pages with slow, deliberate movements, his lips parting in a low chant. Soft, rhythmic murmurs¡ªwords in a language Malick didn¡¯t recognize¡ªdrifted through the small space, weaving through the air like invisible threads. ¡°Hooooum¡­ huuumm¡­ let us see¡­ ahhhhhh¡­¡± The room seemed to darken at the edges, the candlelight flickering, shadows stretching unnaturally. A strange energy filled the air, making Malick¡¯s skin prickle. His excitement faded into quiet unease, his senses sharpening despite the lingering haze of alcohol. Finally, the old man stopped on a page and tapped it. His face grew serious. ¡°Young man,¡± he said gravely, ¡°you were born under a bad moon, while the dark star circled the planet. A once-in-a-million-year occurrence.¡± Malick frowned. ¡°Okay¡­ and?¡± The old man leaned forward. ¡°Has your luck always been bad?¡± Malick blinked. ¡°Yes! It has!¡± The old man nodded sagely. ¡°No wonder, no wonder indeed. You, my son, are destined to be cursed with horrendous misfortune for life.¡± Malick¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?! Is there no way around it?¡± ¡°Unfortunately, no.¡± Malick felt a surge of panic. ¡°B-but¡ªyour banner¡ªit liter¡¯ly says I can change my luck here!¡± he protested, jabbing a shaky finger in the general direction of the entrance, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure he was pointing at the right thing. The old man sighed. ¡°That is for people with normal bad luck. Your situation is different. You are a once-in-an-era son of misfortune. There is no cure.¡± Malick felt like the walls were closing in¡ªor maybe that was just the tequila catching up to him. Either way, pure desperation took over. ¡°I don¡¯ wanna spend my whole life havin¡¯¡­ horrendous bad luck!¡± he blurted out, the word horrendous taking far too much effort to pronounce. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. The old man tapped his fingers on the counter, his gaze distant, as if weighing something unseen. The silence stretched long enough for Malick to start swaying again. Then, at last, the old man spoke. ¡°Well¡­ there is one thing we could do.¡± Malick perked up immediately, nearly toppling over from the sudden movement. ¡°WHAT?! Tell me!¡± Malick slammed his hands onto the counter for emphasis¡ªexcept he missed slightly and smacked a decorative bowl instead. It wobbled precariously, did a dramatic little spin, and, of course, tumbled to the floor, shattering into pieces. CRASH Malick winced. ¡°Ugh, sorryz, I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll pays for dat,¡± he mumbled. The old man hesitated, his gaze growing distant, as if peering beyond the veil of time itself. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of something ancient. ¡°My great-great-grandfather retrieved a talisman from the East¡ªa bracelet forged in rites long forgotten, imbued with energies that ward off misfortune. It does not grant good luck, but it may temper the misfortune that hounds you, reducing your burden to¡­ something more bearable.¡± His fingers traced unseen patterns on the counter, the flickering candlelight making the shadows around him dance. Malick let out a heavy breath, his tequila-laced breath potent enough to get several small mosquitoes in the area drunk. Swaying slightly, he slurred, ¡°Tha¡¯s better ¡®n nothing! C¡¯n I¡­ c¡¯n I have it?¡± The old man slowly shook his head, his expression unreadable. ¡°This talisman is bound to my family¡¯s lineage, passed down through generations. It is not a mere trinket to be given away to a stranger. Such artifacts choose their bearer¡­ and they do not part from their keepers lightly.¡± Malick nodded, his booze-soaked brain scrambling for a solution. He¡¯d read plenty of novels, and in situations like this, the protagonist usually had to do a quest or¡­ something¡­ to get the magic thing. ¡°Is there¡ªhic!¡ªsomethin¡¯ I gotta do? Like, uh¡­ a task¡­ or a mission¡­ or like¡­ does yer fam¡¯ly need help with¡­ somethin¡¯?¡± he slurred, blinking hard as the room tilted slightly to the left. The old man¡¯s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ¡°Ahhh¡­ benefactor, you truly understand! You have the heart of a hero.¡± He sighed deeply. ¡°In fact, there is something. Our store is being forced to move by an unscrupulous landlord who wants the building back. If we could afford to pay this month¡¯s rent, we could tide over these troubles.¡± Malick straightened his shoulders, doing his best to look competent despite the tequila doing its best to sabotage him. ¡°I can def¡¯nitely help with that!¡± he declared, though the word definitely put up a solid fight on its way out of his mouth. Still, his words were sincere, brimming with the kind of drunken conviction usually reserved for statements like ¡°You ¡®n¡¯ me are best friends forever!¡± or ¡°Watch this¡ªit¡¯s gonna be awesome!¡±¡ªright before something went horribly, horribly wrong. The old man slowly rubbed his hands together, his gaze heavy with unspoken weight. ¡°Ahhhh¡­ there is a way,¡± he murmured, his voice carrying the cadence of something ancient and inevitable. ¡°A sacrifice¡ªnot of blood, nor spirit, but of something equally binding.¡± He leaned forward, the flickering candlelight casting deep shadows across his lined face. ¡°If you can part with two thousand dollars¡­ the balance may yet be restored, and this place¡ªthis sacred space¡ªshall endure.¡± Malick flinched. ¡®Two thousand dollars?! That was a lot of money.¡¯ His brain, sluggish from alcohol, tried to do the math¡ªhow many drinks, burgers, or very questionable life choices that amount could cover¡ªbut ultimately, if it meant avoiding a lifetime of bad luck¡­ it was worth it. With the solemnity of a man making a grand sacrifice, he fumbled into his wallet and pulled out his Visex card, nearly dropping it in the process. ¡°H-here ya go, sir,¡± he slurred, presenting it with the exaggerated dignity of a knight offering his sword. BING! PURCHASE APPROVED. The old man¡¯s eyes gleamed, a knowing smile spreading across his weathered face. ¡°You are more than a mere customer¡­ you are a benefactor, a force sent by fate itself.¡± His voice carried an almost reverent tone, as if Malick¡¯s drunken offering had tipped some cosmic balance. He pressed his palms together, bowing slightly. ¡°Wait here. The heirloom cannot simply be taken¡ªit must be retrieved.¡± He turned toward the beaded curtain behind him. ¡°I shall send my grandson to fetch the bracelet.¡± The candles flickered as he spoke, the air growing thick with something Malick couldn¡¯t quite name¡ªwhether it was mysticism or just the lingering effects of tequila was anyone¡¯s guess. Turning to the back room, he called out in Chinese, ¡°Ëï×Ó£¡È¥ÄÃÎÒµÄÐÒÔËÊÖïí£¡ (Grandson! Go get me the lucky bracelet.)¡± A younger voice called back, ¡°Yes, Grandfather.¡± Five minutes later, a teenage boy emerged from the back, holding an old, dust-covered bracelet made of black leather, adorned with tiny charms. The old man took it carefully and handed it to Malick. ¡°Take this, benefactor. I believe your luck will change soon.¡± Malick held it in his hands for a moment before slipping it onto his wrist. He exhaled in relief. ¡°Thank you.¡± With that, he stepped out of the shop, the bracelet snug around his wrist, feeling¡ªfor the first time in his life¡ªthat maybe, just maybe, his fortune was about to turn around. *** After Malick left, the old man and his ¡°grandson¡± burst into a raucous celebration behind the counter, surrounded by mysterious trinkets and dusty relics. They cracked open a couple of cheap Tstungting beers¡ªbottles that fizzed as if they were just as excited as the two of them¡ªand lit up Marlbo cigarettes that burned with all the enthusiasm of a candle in a windstorm. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that a flashy banner and one of those Zbay bracelets got us a two-thousand-dollar windfall!¡± the grandson said, exclaiming with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He took a long drag from his cigarette, watching the smoke swirl around his head like a makeshift halo. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t forget my fantastic acting!¡± the old man retorted, waving his gnarled hands dramatically as if he were on the stage of some grand theater. His voice carried the same mix of pride and mischief that had charmed Malick moments before. Nearly toppling a precariously balanced vase in his excitement, he added, ¡°Without my Oscar-worthy performance, none of this would have happened!¡± The grandson snorted with laughter. ¡°Yeah, yeah, your performance was so Oscar-worthy it might have even given the local drama club a run for their money.¡± He paused, tapping the bottle as if toasting their newfound fortune. ¡°Honestly, who knew a banner and a bracelet could be worth more than a lifetime of bad luck?¡± They clinked their chipped beer bottles together in a toast. ¡°To banners, bracelets, and the miraculous art of creative hustling!¡± the old man declared with mock solemnity. ¡°May our future deals be as lucrative as this one!¡± Leaning back on a creaky stool, the grandson mused, ¡°You know, maybe we should order another batch of these ¡®lucky¡¯ bracelets. Imagine¡ªif we can pull off this scam constantly, we could make tons! The old man chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ¡°I like the way you think, my boy. The world may never understand the subtle genius behind our methods, but they¡¯ll certainly never forget the legend of our little shop.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s pack up this junk, the drama club will want it back, and get out of here before he sobers up and wants a refund.¡± Outside, the city buzzed obliviously along, unaware that inside a cramped, dusty shop, two unlikely partners were plotting their next big score¡ªone where every banner, every bracelet, and every cheap beer would fuel their wildest, most improbable dreams. *** Chapter 4 Malick stumbled through his front door, the aftereffects of his wild night still clinging to him like a bad cologne. He barely managed to kick off his shoes before collapsing in a heap on his sagging couch. In no time at all, the darkness claimed him, and he passed out as if he¡¯d just won a medal for drunken endurance. When Malick finally stirred the next day, the first thing he registered was a pounding headache that made his skull feel like a percussion instrument. The room was thankfully dark. ¡®How long did I sleep for¡¯ he wondered. He looked at his phone. It was 7pm! He had slept for almost an entire twenty four hours! He looked at the empty beer cans and takeout boxes lay scattered around like evidence of a crime scene. He groaned, regretting his life choices. ¡®Ouch, my everything hurts,¡¯ he thought, grimacing as he tried to piece together the remnants of his memory from the night before. In his foggy state, Malick recalled all those system novels where characters leveled up or received quest notifications to fix their lives. ¡®Wouldn¡¯t it be awesome if this massive pain in his head and oversleeping was the result of a System merger, and not the after effects of too much tequila?¡¯ He imagined a digital overlay blinking into existence: ¡°System Notification: Hangover - Effect: Critical. Quest: Drink Water, Find Aspirin, and Survive the Day.¡± Unfortunately there was no such notification. Rising unsteadily from the couch, Malick shuffled toward his kitchen. Every step was a small victory over the remnants of last night¡¯s bender. As he opened the fridge, he half-hoping to see a blinking message urging him to hydrate. Instead, he was met with the sad sight of a few lonely bottles of water, a Grepsi Cola and a yawning reminder of his life¡¯s recent decisions. ¡®I¡¯ve read so many novels about Systems¡ªmaybe one day, I¡¯ll finally get lucky and unlock a ¡°Life Doesn¡¯t Suck bonus¡± or something,¡¯ he thought bitterly. But as he took a tentative sip of water, the nausea in his stomach assured him that no such bonus was coming. Reality was very much in control. With a resigned chuckle and a groan, Malick shuffled back to his bedroom. He¡¯d need all the help that he could muster to tackle the rest of the day remaining. For now, he decided he was just going to lie there, and hope the caffeine, aspirin and water took effect soon. Closing his eyes he was shocked to see a blue screen actually appearing in front of his eyes. [Congratulations to host for merging with the Luck System] LUCK SYSTEM: LEVEL 1 ( 0/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. BAD LUCK POINTS (BP): 238 ACTION LOG: EXPAND? ITEM SHOP: LOCKED WHEEL OF FORTUNE: LOCKED STATS: EXPAND? SKILLS: EXPAND? INVENTORY: EXPAND? *** For a moment, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was still dreaming. He had literally been joking to himself about Systems, so maybe his overactive imagination had conjured one? He opened his eyes and squinted at the ceiling, staring at the System notification¡ªit looked exactly like the ones from the novels he constantly read. Propping himself up on one elbow, he peered around his cluttered apartment. Nothing looked surreal or glitchy enough to suggest he was still dreaming. The mess, the smell, the relentless throbbing in his head¡ªthese were all very real. ¡®Definitely not still sleeping,¡¯ he mused. *** He knew he wasn¡¯t dreaming, so had he gone insane? ¡®Oh well, if I¡¯ve gone insane, there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.¡¯ He refused to be one of those protagonists who whined for days about whether the System was real. If it was real, great. If not, well¡­ at least his delusions came with a user interface. ¡°Let¡¯s see what this System is all about,¡± he said out loud to himself, accepting his fate with the same nonchalant attitude people usually had when blindly clicking Accept Terms and Conditions without reading them¡ªnot that the System had actually shown him any. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Then, he looked at the screen again. LUCK SYSTEM: LEVEL 1 ( 0/100) Kinda Unlucky ¨C You step in a puddle right as you leave home, but at least it¡¯s just water. Probably. BAD LUCK POINTS (BP): 238 ACTION LOG: EXPAND? ITEM SHOP: LOCKED LUCKY DRAW : LOCKED STATS: EXPAND? SKILLS: EXPAND? INVENTORY: EXPAND? *** ¡®What¡¯s a Luck System? And why do I have Bad Luck points?¡¯ He wondered. [System Response] The luck system is based on luck. And Bad Luck points are the basis of it. ¡°That tells me nothing.¡± [System Response] You¡¯re lucky to even have a System, stop being lazy, do you know how busy I am. Explore it yourself. ¡°Eeep. Ok.¡± Malick said, definitely didn¡¯t want to piss off his brand new System. *** POV : Astral Universe ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have let Pride have the first turn to talk to him! I told you it was a bad idea. I should have been the first contact. And just so you all know, I¡¯ll be carefully checking the quota and turns!¡± said Envy, waving his skinny arms. ¡°¡°Oh, shughar, you gohhda knoh it wush random,¡± Gluttony said through a mouthful of food, words barely making it out between bites. CHOMP. CHOMP. Gluttony kept talking while devouring an entire pizza. Not a slice. The whole thing, held up with both hands as she tore into it like a starving beast. One slice in hand, while the other held the remaining pizza. Grease dripped down her arms, splattering onto the floor as she spoke around a mouthful of cheese and dough. ¡°We were lucky the Virchoos didn¡¯ geh firsh contac¡¯. Besidesh, Pride¡¯s only in control fer 24 Earth hoursh,¡± she mumbled through the layers of melted mozzarella, barely pausing before taking another massive bite. ¡°I¡¯m doing a great job! The best! Nobody could have done it better!¡± Pride responded arrogantly to the uncalled for criticism. *** POV: Calgary ¡®Ok, I¡¯ll explore it myself,¡¯ Malick thought. What¡¯s this action log? He mentally clicked it, half-expecting some grand revelation. Maybe a detailed history of his achievements? A record of every significant moment since he got the System? ACTION LOG 00:00 BP 254 01:00 BP 255 02:00 BP 256 . . . 07:00 BP 261 08:00 BP 262 Car broke down -7 09:00 BP 255 Got overcharged by greedy mechanic -3 10:00 BP 252 Girlfriend breaks up with you -4 11:00 BP 248 Drank expired beer -2 17:00 BP 246 Got overcharged for drinks -1 18:00 BP 245 Got beer spilled on you -1 Got car scratched by drunk driver -1 Ate expired food -2 Spilled tequila on yourself -2 19:00 BP 239 Stepped in puddle of urine in bar bathroom -2 20:00 BP 237 Ran into scammers -2 21:00 BP 235 22:00 BP 236 23:00 BP 237 24:00 BP 238 ¡­ Malick stared at the list and couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the sheer volume of bad luck that had apparently clung to him. Sure, he¡¯d always thought of himself as a bit unlucky, but with the events laid out in black and white, he realized he was, in fact, monumentally cursed. Clearly, he was justified in complaining about his bad luck. Some of the entries made his blood boil. ¡°Got overcharged by a mechanic? That fucker,¡± he fumed. ¡°I always thought he was a fair guy¡ªguess I was wrong.¡± Then there was the curious case of the scam. ¡°Getting scammed? Really?¡± he wondered aloud. He¡¯d been at the Chinese fortune shop, where the luck system and his shiny new bracelet had been given to him. ¡®So why, in the world, did his action log claim otherwise? Perhaps the action log wasn¡¯t 100% correct?¡¯ Other entries forced Malick to reflect on his drunken debauchery. How many expired beers had he gulped down, or how many atrocious nachos had he devoured? And, as if that wasn¡¯t enough, the final nail in yesterday¡¯s coffin: ¡°Stepped in a puddle of urine.¡± Gross doesn¡¯t even begin to cover it. ¡®I¡¯m starting to think my life is one giant cosmic prank,¡¯ he mused, half amused and half exasperated. ¡®If only there were a ¡°Re-roll Luck¡± option in my System menu¡­¡¯ He looked for it. There was no such option. With a bitter chuckle and a shake of his head, Malick realized that sometimes, the universe just loves to mess with you¡ªand his action log was the most damning proof of that. *** Chapter 5 It looked like the action log might be an interesting daily ritual for Malick, but there was no need to keep it open 24/7. The endless list of minuses and pluses wasn¡¯t exactly a confidence booster. In fact, watching his bad luck points tick up by one every hour convinced him that his misfortune was on a relentless upward escalator. With a resigned sigh, he shut down the action log and turned his attention to the next section: his stats. ¡°Ok, I can¡¯t wait to see what my stats look like,¡± he thought, equal parts curious and terrified. STATS 1 is the gold standard of mediocrity¡ªthe perfect representation of an average human male. At this level, you¡¯re not impressing anyone, but you¡¯re also not embarrassing yourself (too much). Anything above 1 means you¡¯re actually good at something¡ªmaybe even impressive. Anything below 1? Well¡­ congratulations, you¡¯ve entered the struggle zone. Hope you enjoy losing arm-wrestling matches to children, tripping over flat surfaces, and making life choices that would make a reality show producer weep with joy. Strength (Str): 1.07 Measures physical power and muscle mass. Influences melee attack damage, carrying capacity, and those random feats of strength¡ªlike opening stubborn pickle jars or hauling your ex girlfriend¡¯s stuff out of the apartment. Intelligence (Int): 1.15 Reflects cognitive abilities, problem-solving skills, and general know-how. It affects how quickly you learn from mistakes (if you ever does) and even how well you remember which bar has the best half-off shots. Charisma (Cha): 0.95 Indicates personal magnetism, social skills, and leadership qualities. Unfortunately, this score suggests that your charm might be a bit underwhelming¡ªprobably a side effect of your awkward encounters and general lack of game. Health (HP): .099 Represents overall physical well-being and vitality. It¡¯s your buffer against illness, injuries, and those hangovers that feel like the universe is personally punishing him. Dexterity (Dex): 1.05 Denotes agility, reflexes, and hand-eye coordination. Essential when dodging life¡¯s curveballs¡ªor when trying desperately to catch a drink before it spills on you again. Wisdom (Wis): 1.10 Reflects common sense, perception, and intuition. While it may seem surprising given your frequent mishaps, this stat suggests you do have some insight¡ªif only you could use it to avoid stepping in bar urine puddles. Constitution (Con): 1.02 Measures stamina, overall health, and physical resilience. It represents your ability to absorb punishment¡ªboth physical and emotional¡ªand keep trudging along. Endurance (End): 1.05 Indicates stamina and the ability to sustain prolonged activity, whether that¡¯s a marathon binge-watch session or enduring an endless string of misfortunes. Perception (Per): 1.08 Shows your awareness of the environment and sensitivity to subtle details. This stat comes in handy for spotting hidden dangers¡ªor for noticing the empty beer cans scattered around after a wild night out. *** Malick couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Sure, his bad luck was steadily climbing like a runaway roller coaster, but at least he had a clear numerical snapshot. If only he could somehow invest a few extra points in charisma or intelligence, maybe things would finally start looking up. Until then, he¡¯d just have to live with the score¡ªand occasionally dream of a System update that might grant him a ¡°Reroll Luck¡± option. Still, looking at the score, he was kind of pissed. ¡°Come on, is my charisma really that low?¡± he grumbled, staring at the digits as if they were personally insulting him. Obviously, nobody likes being told they¡¯re below average¡ªespecially when it¡¯s laid out in black and white for all to see. But that¡¯s just how averages work, isn¡¯t it? Somebody¡¯s got to be below it, and Malick was clearly holding that dubious honor. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He scoffed at his reflection on the matter. ¡°If charm were currency, I¡¯d be bankrupt,¡± he mused. Maybe it was time to invest in a charisma potion or enroll in a crash course on ¡®How to Be Charming and Win Friends.¡¯ After all, in a world where even a malfunctioning chatbot might score higher on the charm scale, Malick¡¯s deficiencies were almost laughable. He imagined a future update to his stat sheet¡ªa shiny new patch that might bump his charisma up by a few points. Until then, though, he¡¯d have to endure the awkward stares, the misinterpreted jokes, and the general lack of sparkle in his social interactions. With a bitter chuckle and a shake of his head, Malick accepted that while being below average in charisma wasn¡¯t the end of the world-still it kinda sucked. *** He decided, ¡°Alright, sure, my stats aren¡¯t that great, but I must have some pretty awesome skills, right?¡± With that thought, he hit the expand button and checked out his skills list: SKILLS Board Games: Good Because every master strategist knows that dominating a round of Settlers of Calgary is the first step toward world domination¡ªor at least a fun night with friends. Alcohol Tolerance: Above Average An essential skill for surviving your own misadventures. After all, if you can¡¯t hold your liquor, how are you supposed to keep your head together the next morning? Firearms: Above Average Not to be confused with your ability to fire off sarcastic comments. When it comes to actual shooting, your aim is almost as sharp as your wit¡ªalmost. Tactics & Strategy: Excellent Whether you¡¯re plotting your next bar crawl or orchestrating a full-scale escape from a karaoke disaster, your mind is a well-oiled machine. On good days, at least. Hand-to-Hand Combat: Good Better than average, even if you¡¯d rather settle disputes with a well-timed quip than a fistfight. Still, when push comes to shove, you can throw a punch¡ªor at least deliver a mildly inconvenient tap. Survival Skills: Above Average You can thrive in the wild with nothing but a can of expired beer and a questionable map, proving that sometimes, sheer stubbornness beats common sense. Computers & Hacking: Decent (Self-Taught) The digital realm is your playground, even if your hacking skills sometimes resemble frantic button-mashing more than calculated genius. Explosives Handling: Average (Knows just enough to be dangerous) You¡¯ve got that delicate balance down¡ªenough knowledge to handle a stick of dynamite without turning it into a one-man fireworks show. Usually. Historical Knowledge (Military): Excellent When someone brings up military history, you can wax poetic with the fervor of a drill sergeant¡ªeven if your own life battles usually end with ordering takeout. Pop Culture Trivia: Exceptional From 90s sitcoms to cult classic movies, your brain is a vault of obscure facts that never fail to impress¡ªor bewilder¡ªthe people around you. Sarcasm: Master Level This is your true superpower. With a razor-sharp tongue and a quip always at the ready, you can defuse any awkward moment or just leave people scratching their heads. Piloting (Drones): Good You can maneuver a drone like a pro¡ªassuming the drone isn¡¯t as confused as your life sometimes appears. Piloting (Vehicles): Average You get from point A to point B without too many mishaps, though a few fender benders here and there do little to boost your reputation. Cooking (Rations & Campfire Meals): Above Average In the wilderness, your campfire cooking skills are surprisingly competent. Who knew that gourmet meals could be whipped up with duct tape and determination? Improvisation: Excellent (Can MacGyver a solution out of duct tape and sheer willpower) When life throws you a curveball, you¡¯re ready with a roll of duct tape and a wild idea, turning potential disasters into mildly amusing escapades. Weapon Maintenance: Above Average You keep your gear in decent shape¡ªpartly because replacing it is a pain, and partly because you¡¯ve learned that neglect usually leads to unexpected explosions. Gaming (FPS & Strategy): Exceptional (Claims it¡¯s ¡°training¡±) In the virtual world, you¡¯re a force to be reckoned with. You insist that every match is just ¡°training for real life,¡± even if your real-life battles are more about dodging spilled beer than taking down enemies. Memorizing Obscure Facts: Excellent Whether it¡¯s trivia about ancient civilizations or the plot twists of a cult classic movie, your memory for the random and obscure is nothing short of impressive. *** He couldn¡¯t help but be happy about the list of skills. Unlike the stat sheet¡ªwhich served as a brutal reminder of every screw-up and misfortune¡ªthe skills list featured only the things he did above average. He was pretty chuffed to see that he possessed some genuinely useful talents. ¡°I guess my time in the military before I left really helped me out,¡± he thought with a half-smile, even as his head pounded with the remnants of last night¡¯s misadventures. He even found himself wondering what his life might have been like if he hadn¡¯t been so unlucky and had stayed in the military¡ªmaybe he¡¯d be a decorated hero instead of a serial breakfast skipper. But that was a thought for another time. There was plenty to ponder about these skills, yet at that moment the most important question was what to eat. Sure, he had a massive hangover and really didn¡¯t want to leave his house, but he knew that a big, greasy breakfast might be just the power-up he needed. The idea of a plate piled high with bacon, eggs, and all the fixings practically danced before his eyes. ¡°Musttttt get food,¡± he muttered, half in despair and half in desperate hope that a hearty meal would rescue him from his current hungover state. At least there was the discovery of the System¡ªa digital interface that had kick-started his brain, making the hangover and nausea seem to almost fade into the background. In that moment, even as the world spun around him, the promise of leveling up (and a delicious breakfast) was too enticing to ignore. Chapter 6 He grabbed his keys, shoved on his shoes (one of them was suspiciously damp, but he chose not to investigate), and walked out the door. There was a greasy spoon he liked just around the corner, the kind of place where the floors were always just a little too sticky, and the waitresses called you ¡°hon¡± whether they liked you or not. The best thing? It was open 24/7 and always served breakfast, no matter the time of day. His go-to order? The legendary ChumbaBumba ¡ªnamed because it was perfect for when you got knocked down and needed to get up again. Two eggs (cooked however the chef felt like making them that day), greasy sausages that probably defied health regulations, crispy bacon that was at least 60% salt, pancakes big enough to be used as flotation devices, and hash browns¡ªthe good kind, the little patties, not those chaotic diced ones that always tasted like disappointment. Best of all? Unlimited coffee. All of it for just twelve bucks, which, in his opinion, made this place a temple of divinity. For him, this was heaven. A place of healing. A shrine dedicated to the sacred art of curing hangovers through sheer caloric force. And, more importantly, the perfect spot to sit down and figure out what the hell this System was all about. *** Sitting down at a booth and waiting for his breakfast to arrive, Malick let out a long, slow sigh. His body still felt like it had been hit by a truck, then backed over for good measure. But the promise of food and coffee was enough to keep him conscious. His first coffee couldn¡¯t come soon enough. When it finally arrived, he wasted no time drowning it in sugar and creamer, using at least five of those tiny plastic cups like a man on the verge of collapse. A testament to how desperate he was to banish his hangover. ¡®All right, I¡¯ve explored the stat sheet and the skills list, even though I think it¡¯s not 100% accurate. Seriously below average charisma? Let¡¯s see what else is there?¡¯ He scrolled through the System menu until something caught his eye. ¡®Ooh, look, inventory.¡¯ He mentally tapped the button, half-expecting to find a treasure trove of hidden riches. Maybe some secret rewards for surviving terrible life choices? Nope. The inventory was about as barren as his fridge. In fact, there was only one thing listed. Item: Bad Luck Bracelet ¡®Ah, yes,¡¯ he muttered, glancing down at the bracelet on his wrist. ¡®This bad boy¡¯s gonna change my life.¡¯ What he didn¡¯t realize was that the bracelet itself was about as special as a gas station scratch-off ticket. It was the Seven Sins and Virtues that had blessed it, turning it into something worth having. Without them, it was just another cheap trinket that probably wouldn¡¯t even fetch five bucks on Zbay. But hey, it didn¡¯t matter. He had the bracelet. He had the System. And life was about to get seriously better. And speaking of life getting better¡ªhis breakfast had arrived. A glorious, heart-clogging masterpiece. The ChumbaBumba sat before him, steaming and golden, practically waving at him with its greasy goodness. Two perfect eggs, glistening bacon, fat sausages, crispy hash brown patties¡ªnot that weak diced-up stuff¡ªand a stack of pancakes ready to be drowned in syrup. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Malick grinned, grabbing his fork. ¡®System or no System, THIS is a blessing.¡¯ *** As he started to work his way through the ChumbaBumba, he couldn¡¯t help but reflect on his current plans and lifestyle. The job interview he was supposed to attend yesterday was clearly a non-starter. If you had the choice between someone who shows up on time and someone who doesn¡¯t arrive, there¡¯s simply no contest¡ªyou wouldn¡¯t choose the absentee interviewee. And, honestly, it wasn¡¯t like he boasted any particularly impressive skills for the role. The job was at a security company that valued military experience, but come on¡ªhow useful was wildlife survival in an urban security gig? Sure, he could survive a bear attack in the wild, but navigating office politics and unlocking a door with a keycard were a completely different skill set. He found himself reminiscing about his time in the military. Part of him wished he hadn¡¯t washed out, but after completing the bare minimum of mandatory service, he had to admit that a life in uniform was fraught with danger¡ªespecially for someone as notoriously accident-prone as he was. His chronic bad luck seemed to affect everything, including his ability to handle firearms with any semblance of competence. One incident in particular stood out in his memory. There he was, marching proudly on parade, when suddenly he noticed something utterly absurd¡ªa banana peel on the floor. ¡°Seriously?¡± he thought. Before he could even process his disbelief, KERSPLAT, he slipped, sending himself sprawling in a spectacular display of unintended acrobatics. In one fell comedic moment, he took down half of his squad, turning what was meant to be a dignified march into a full-blown slapstick routine. Of course, the incident had its own viral afterlife. It was still on ViewTube under the title ¡°You Won¡¯t Believe What Happens During This Parade!¡± with the hashtag #CanadianMilitaryFail trending among military mishap compilations. Every time he thought about it, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh bitterly¡ªif only to remind himself that sometimes his life felt like a never-ending blooper reel. But now he knew it was all because of bad luck and wasn¡¯t his fault personally. As he chewed through his breakfast, the greasy goodness of the meal somehow made all these reflections a little more bearable. Despite the setbacks, he couldn¡¯t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, his life was an adventure in the making¡ªeven if it was previously filled with banana peels and missed opportunities. But still he had to find a job or some way to make some cash. Maybe the System could help? *** Just when he was thinking about how he could use the System to score some extra cash, a prompt suddenly appeared in his vision. The words blinked onto the screen in bold, neon letters, as if the universe itself had decided to give him a little nudge¡ªan opportunity, or perhaps a challenge. [System Task] Change your name from Malick to something luckier. You can only change 1 letter. Reward to be determined based on completion speed. For a moment, he blinked in disbelief. Was the system really offering him a way to line his pockets? The System had been curt, and arrogant yesterday, so he didn¡¯t trust it completely. He rubbed his eyes, half-expecting the prompt to vanish like a hangover after a hearty breakfast. But there it was, persistent and glowing with promise. ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s how it¡¯s gonna work,¡± he muttered to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips. ¡°When life gives you lemons, apparently the System offers you a task for making lemonade stands.¡± His mind raced with possibilities. Could this be his chance to finally balance out the cosmic scales of bad luck? With the lingering taste of greasy breakfast and a head still recovering from the previous night¡¯s bad choices, he felt a surge of determination. Maybe this was the universe¡ªor his System¡ªsaying, ¡°Hey, here¡¯s a way to cash in on your misfortune. Prove you deserve it!¡± With a deep, resolute breath and a renewed sense of purpose, he accepted the task. The System had given him a chance to prove that even a guy like him could turn his luck around. And as he set off to complete his first task, he couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the awesomeness of it all. Chapter 7 He stared at the System task, his heart pounding as if it were the final boss in an arcade game. ¡°Alright, sure¡ªmy stats may not be stellar, but I could use a luckier name,¡± he said, though his mind was a swirling mess of doubts and half-baked ideas. At first, he toyed with the idea of simply adopting ¡°Lucky.¡± But that sounded like a name for a carnival barker, not someone who¡¯d spent his life dodging banana peels and mishaps. ¡°Luckzor¡± flitted briefly through his mind next¡ªtoo over-the-top, like something a comic book villain would choose. And ¡°El Lucko¡±? That was downright absurd, evoking images of a cheesy Mexican wrestling reject. The System had given him a strict limitation: only one letter could change. One letter! It felt like being handed a single puzzle piece and told to reassemble your entire identity. He tapped his fingers on the desk, his gaze fixed on his current name: Malick. ¡°I can only change one letter, huh?¡± he murmured, almost in disbelief. Every option he considered seemed to mock him with its inadequacy. His internal debate grew heated¡ªa battle of irony and self-doubt. Was it possible that a single letter could salvage his legacy of misfortune? Malick stared at his name on the screen, rubbing his chin. If luck was the issue, maybe a little rebranding was in order. He could only change one letter, so he had to make it count. ¡°Alright¡­ let¡¯s tweak this.¡± Malik? Dropping the C made it look cleaner, but did it actually do anything? It just felt like his name had been autocorrected. Malickk? Too many K¡¯s. Now it looked like an internet username from middle school. Malich? He tilted his head. Was this supposed to sound mysterious? Was he now an undead wizard? Malixk? Ugh. Now it just felt like he was trying too hard to be edgy. Malack? No, that just looked like an old-timey insult. ¡°Thou art a Malack!¡± Malock? Now he sounded like a cheesy 80¡¯s detective . Malisk? That sounded like a mister that could petrify you with it¡¯s stare Malicko? Nope, now he was just an off-brand Italian soda. ¡°Drink a Malicko¡­ eeets a deeeliccouso!¡± Alright, maybe the issue wasn¡¯t the last few letters. What if he changed the M? Balick? Now he just sounded like a medieval knight. ¡°Balick the Brave went out to save the Princess, hope in his heart¡­onwards my steed!¡± Galick? Wait¡­ wasn¡¯t that a seasoning? Palick? Ugh. Now it sounded like he was some weird fusion of a friend (pal) and his own name. Talick? That one actually almost worked. It had a kind of rogue-ish charm¡ªthen he realized it sounded like a prescription drug. Halick? No. Just no. It looked like he was trying to cosplay as some long-lost Norse god. Zalick? Now he sounded like a futuristic DJ. He groaned, slumping back. Maybe the System was just screwing with him. Finallyyyyy though¡­.. ¡°Maluck,¡± he whispered, the word tasting bittersweet on his tongue. Could swapping an ¡°I¡± for a ¡°U¡± really signal a fresh start? It was as if that one letter encapsulated every failure and every hopeful dream of turning his luck around. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. With a shaky exhale and trembling fingers, he reached for the confirm button. The screen blinked in response, sealing his decision. It wasn¡¯t just a name change; it was a small act of rebellion against the relentless parade of bad luck that had defined him for so long. And though the road ahead remained as unpredictable as ever, for the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope¡ªand maybe, just maybe, a little bit of luck. *** After he hit the confirm button, he was taken aback. ¡°Isn¡¯t there supposed to be a prize or bonus or something?¡± he wondered aloud. Instead of confetti or bonus multipliers, the screen simply confirmed the change. His name was now Maluck¡ªa single, decisive letter swap that promised a hint of fortune amid his long streak of misadventures. Biting his lip in disbelief, he addressed the System. ¡°System, I¡¯ve changed my name. Why isn¡¯t the task complete?¡± Almost immediately, a response lit up his vision in a pleasantly conversational tone: The curt, arrogant tone had given way to a kinder, more empathetic voice. [System Response] Ah, Host, it¡¯s nice to chat with you. Of course, you¡¯ve changed your name in the System, but you need to do it legally on Earth. That won¡¯t be easy, but rest assured, the System will register your name change as completed as long as you start the process. No need to wait for actual paperwork. You¡¯re doing great! Maluck let out a half-chuckle. ¡°Thank you, System, for the clear and kind response. You¡¯re so much better than when I talked to you earlier.¡± [System Response] It takes time for the System to fully merge with a host, and sometimes communication isn¡¯t as smooth as it could be. I know it can be frustrating, but please remember, you¡¯re not alone in this. We¡¯re figuring it out together, step by step, and I¡¯ll do my best to support you as we go. Unbeknownst to him, a day had passed since his initial interaction, and the System¡¯s controller had changed. Pride had stepped aside, replaced by Kindness¡ªinfusing every message with surprising warmth. Part of what made Pride so pissy? His turn as controller on the first day after blessing the bracelet was spent watching Malick sleep. ¡°Thanks, System,¡± Maluck mused. ¡°Now I just need to brave the wild world of Earth bureaucracy. Wish me luck.¡± [System Response] Good luck! You can do it! I believe in you! ¡°Alright, how do I go about legally changing my name on Earth?¡± He started a SkewesSearch, scrolling through instructions for changing his name in Alberta. First, he checked the eligibility¡ª18 or older, check. Resident for 3 months, check. Proof of Canadian citizenship, check. Next, he saw he¡¯d need to fill out some forms, gather a bunch of documents, and, for some reason, get a criminal record check¡ªbecause apparently the government wanted to make sure he wasn¡¯t trying to outrun a shady past. The cherry on top was the fees¡ªabout $120, plus a few extra charges for fingerprints and registry services. After that, he¡¯d submit everything, wait 6 to 8 weeks, and boom, a new name and a mountain of paperwork to prove it. ¡®At least,¡¯ he thought, it will be worth it.¡¯ With a determined nod and a resigned sigh, Maluck accepted the challenge. The System task might not have showered him with instant cash or flashy bonuses, but it had set him on a new path¡ªa path toward legally becoming ¡°Maluck¡±, a name that was both a nod to his past misadventures and a hopeful promise for a brighter, if paperwork-laden, future. *** After paying his bill, he headed out of the diner and made his way to the local registry. Luckily, this wasn¡¯t a government office with 9-to-5 hours. Registries in Alberta were private and could set their own hours. The idea of a legal name change felt like embarking on an epic quest¡ªone that involved more paperwork than a tax audit but promised to transform his life, at least on paper. Walking into the registry in Edmonton, Alberta, he recalled all the horror stories he¡¯d heard about the DMV in America. In Canada, however, things were relatively simple¡ªespecially at reputable spots like Ellerslie Registry, which boasted quick and efficient service. With his paperwork neatly bundled, he handed everything over to the registry agent. He couldn¡¯t help but feel as though he were handing in his old ¡°Malick¡± identity for a total upgrade¡ªlike trading in a rusty clunker for a sleek, brand-new ride. Though the bureaucratic process might have been tedious, in his mind it was a crucial first step toward transforming his luck¡ªand his entire life. If approved, he¡¯d soon receive a Certificate of Name Change¡ªofficial proof that his new identity, Maluck, was set in stone. Then came the fun part: updating his driver¡¯s license, health card, SIN, passport¡­ basically every piece of identification that declared his existence to the world. As he sat in the waiting area, flipping through a magazine and wondering if the processing time of 6¨C8 weeks felt like an eternity or just enough time to plan his next misadventure. Here he was, a guy whose life had been defined by hangovers, car breakdowns, and viral parade fails, now trying to change his stars with one simple letter. After this paperwork, he would emerge as Maluck¡ªan identity that promised to attract better fortune, or at least, a new chapter filled with more quirky adventures. And for now, with the scent of freshly printed documents mingling with the lingering aroma of greasy breakfast, Maluck felt like he was finally taking control of his destiny, one bureaucratic step at a time. Chapter 8 When he finally received his receipt from the registry¡ªproof that his paperwork had been accepted¡ªhe discovered he¡¯d gotten more than a simple paper slip. He had received a System response. [System Task Accomplished] 3 lucky draws approved. Great job! He couldn¡¯t wait to leave the sterile confines of the registry; it would have been far too weird to sit around after finishing his business. Instead, he strolled back to the Greasy Spoon (best name for a diner ever), and slid into his favorite booth with a steaming cup of coffee. He had deliberately avoided returning to his apartment, convinced that doing so would be like hitting the pause button on his life¡ªa button he was absolutely not ready to press. The hangover was now nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory, cured by the legendary Chumbabumba breakfast and the thrill of nailing his first System task. As he scanned his digital inventory and saw the three lucky draws, he couldn¡¯t help but frown in contemplation. ¡°System, are these lucky draws influenced by my actual luck?¡± he inquired, remembering that he¡¯d never won anything in a lucky draw before. In fact, his poor track record with freebies was precisely why he had ditched Koala Kola in favor of Grepsi Cola. Every time he bought a Koala Kola, the tab would reveal a disheartening ¡°sorry, try again¡± message. Who would want a soda that made you feel like a loser every single time? Definitely not him. [System Response] No, Host. The Wheel of Fortune is completely neutral, please believe me when I say that no amount of good luck or bad luck can sway it. It¡¯s designed to be fair, and I can imagine how stressful that must be. But know that this is just one part of your journey, and you¡¯re not alone in this. Whatever the outcome, you¡¯ll have the strength to keep moving forward. ¡°Okay¡­..,¡± he said, his excitement building. This was the first time in his life that he might actually enter a random draw with the possibility of winning something! He mentally declared, ¡°Spin Wheel of Fortune!¡± Immediately, a spinning wheel appeared in his mind, resplendent with a dazzling array of prizes. The number 3¡ªrepresenting his 3 chances¡ªglowed proudly at the center of the wheel. As it spun, he imagined all the cool prizes he might win: an all-expenses-paid getaway, a cutting-edge gadget, maybe even a mysterious glittering artifact that promised untold power. Maluck leaned forward eagerly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Today was his chance to finally break free from his cycle of misfortune¡ªone spin at a time. *** He hit ¡°spin¡± on the wheel, and it spun wildly, whirring around as if it were caught in a tornado of fate. Eventually, it slowed and stopped¡ªonly to land on the phrase he had seen more times in his life than he cared to admit, a phrase he absolutely hated: ¡°Sorry, try again.¡± ¡°What the hell?!¡± he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. ¡®Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be a neutral luck area?¡¯ He had expected his first draw¡ªgiven all its epic promises¡ªto actually win something. But he had forgotten that neutrality didn¡¯t guarantee a win. ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered under his breath, and without wasting a second, he hit ¡°spin¡± again. This time, fortune favored him. The wheel came to rest on a prize: The Fortune Tuner¡ªa strange, mechanical device designed to adjust luck, transforming bad luck into good luck. ¡°Oooh, this is awesome!¡± he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he imagined finally turning his string of misfortunes around. ¡°All right, one more spin to go,¡± he thought, mentally steeling himself for the next round. He scanned the prize wheel, which was filled with an eclectic mix of items. Some slots had ¡°Sorry try Again¡±, while others¡ªlike a tantalizing array of gadget names¡ªhad no explanation at all, yet they all looked downright awesome. Names like The Whispering Coin, The Clover Compass and Probability Charm all enticed him like a siren for sailors. Even the less glamorous filler slots promised rewards like ¡°10 Luck Points,¡± which, though modest, still managed to put a smile onto his face. Maluck chuckled at the awesomeness of it all. The idea that a digital spinning wheel could potentially reverse his life¡¯s notorious luck was, in its own badass way, a miracle. As he sat there, sipping his coffee and gazing at the glowing wheel, he felt like a kid in a candy store¡ªif that candy store were run by a mischievous universe determined to give him one hell of a second chance. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. *** His third spin slowly began to decelerate. The wheel wavered tantalizingly between awarding an item and granting four luck points. ¡°Come on, item. Come on, item,¡± he muttered, practically holding his breath. He had been desperately hoping for another piece of luck gear in his inventory¡ªand it was so close. With a series of rhythmic clicks, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, the wheel finally ground to a halt. His heart leaped as the pointer landed squarely on an item. A burst of excitement surged through him as the prize was revealed: The Probability Charm ¨C While wearing it, any event you want to happen gets a 10% boost in probability. Stacks with other Luck items. The charm itself, attached to the Bad Luck bracelet, in the form of a little silver balance. He couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the awesomeness of it all. A 10% boost might not sound like much, but in a life governed by unpredictable misfortune, every little percentage point was like a secret weapon. Now, with the Probability Charm in his possession, he imagined himself as a sort of universal casino pit boss ¡ªonly instead of controlling slot machines, he was tweaking the odds of fate itself. In his world, where banana peels and spilled coffee were daily occurrences, this charm was nothing short of miraculous. *** ¡°Okay, calm down,¡± he whispered to himself. ¡°This Probability Charm is awesome, but what about the Fortune Tuner? Can it really turn all my bad luck into good luck?¡± He glanced at his current Bad Luck Points (BP): 238. The number stared back at him like an unrelenting reminder of every mishap and misadventure. Imagining that 238 BP turning into 238 points of good luck¡ªsomething he¡¯d never known before, his smile was huge. That would be absolutely epic. He¡¯d never have bad luck again! He studied the Fortune Tuner¡¯s description more closely, only to realize that it was a one-time use item. ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered under his breath. Should he use it now to convert his 238 points of bad luck? After all, he was generating one point of bad luck per hour¡ªroughly ten days¡¯ worth of calamity! The temptation was irresistible though. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he thought, ¡°I¡¯ve never had a day without misfortune. If I¡¯ve got one chance to turn this around, I¡¯m taking it right now!¡± He had read so many novels where the protagonist saved up all of his points for some mysterious emergency. In his mind, that was downright nuts. ¡®Why wouldn¡¯t you use your points right away¡ªto get stronger, smarter, or to unlock that new, awesome ¡°Tao of Butt-Kicking¡±?¡¯ In his opinion, hoarding points was just the author¡¯s clever way of keeping a deus ex machina in reserve, ready to bail out the story when it inevitably got stuck in a plot hole. He imagined a hero sitting there, stuck in a completely unfixable problem, who had meticulously saved every single point like a squirrel hoarding acorns for winter, only to pull out a secret power-up at the last minute. For the win. ¡°Ahhhhhh ha! You might have me on the ropes, but I will now spend my points for 357 strength gains! And also, buy the knowledge of the Red Dragon Palm Strike!¡± ¡°Really?¡± he thought, shaking his head. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be more fun¡ªand a heck of a lot more useful¡ªto use those points to level up immediately, blast through challenges, and show off your new abilities as you go?¡± He decided in his own journey, Maluck (Even though everyone he knew still knew him as Malick) would use every point as a chance to kick life¡¯s misfortunes right in the teeth. He scoffed at the idea of playing it safe by saving up points when he could be out there, becoming the hero of his own adventure. After all, if the author needed a last-minute save, it was usually because the plot was taking a nosedive¡ªsomething Maluck was determined never to let happen in his life. With his heart pounding, he addressed the System. ¡°System, use the Fortune Tuner!¡± [System Response] Great choice! This is the perfect moment to make a big move, and I believe in your ability to handle whatever comes next. You¡¯ve earned this chance, and glad you¡¯re making the most of it. Good job taking that leap¡ªyou¡¯ve got this! In an instant, the digital interface sprang to life. The System worked its magic, and with a series of cheerful beeps and twinkling blinks, it converted his 238 Bad Luck Points by halving them into Luck Points. Maluck hadn¡¯t even realized that this wasn¡¯t a straight 1:1 conversion¡ªthe Fortune Tuner actually operated on a 2:1 ratio. For every two Bad Luck points, he gained one point of pure, unadulterated luck. The effect was immediate, as if a tidal wave of fortune had crashed over him, washing away years of mishap and leaving behind a refreshing surge of optimism. In that electrifying moment, Maluck felt almost invincible¡ªgiddy with the realization that even his worst luck could be twisted into something beneficial. It was as if the universe had finally decided to cut him a break. Maluck grinned from ear to ear. That once-dreadful number, 238 BP, had just become 119 LP. A symbol that perhaps, after all his years of shit luck, his life was finally turning around. As he sat there, a mix of disbelief and laughter bubbling within him, he mused, ¡°Maybe, just maybe, my life is really about to change.¡± Chapter 9 POV : Astral Universe In the shimmering expanse of the Astral Universe, seven ethereal voices gathered around a floating cosmic ledger, their conversation blending into a gentle hum of hope and skepticism. They were the 7 Kindly Virtues and they had taken over for the day. One voice, warm and tender, spoke first: ¡°Sister, you¡¯ve done such a magnificent job guiding him. Despite his battered spirit, his heart shines with an unyielding purity.¡± She replied, ¡°Thank you, dear sister; I truly believe his journey is divinely guided. Even if his path is rugged, destiny unfolds exactly as it should.¡± Then came a robust, steady voice full of determination: ¡°He conquers every obstacle, turning each misstep into a battle fought with remarkable courage. It¡¯s clear why we chose him as our champion!¡± This was Diligence chiming in. She loved hard workers and Maluck had been doing such a great job, ever since he received the System! A measured, thoughtful interjection followed, ¡°Yet, I cannot help but wonder¡ªwhy did the Seven Sins allow him to be picked? Despite his virtues, his past is riddled with calamities that seem at odds with our ideals.¡± Another Virtue chimed in, ¡°Ah, but you know those Sins¡ªthey¡¯re like dim bulbs in a vast cosmic chandelier, their choices driven more by the need to keep the narrative delightfully unpredictable than by any sense of merit.¡± ¡°We must remember, however, that even their chaotic influence ensures that the scales of fate never tip too far in one direction.¡± Temperance said. ¡°Oh, how my heart sings at the thought of his future! I trust he will persist in his crusade, and that tomorrow¡ªwhen the Sins take their turn¡ªhis light will shine ever brighter.¡± Their voices mingled like a celestial symphony, each note reflecting compassion, confidence, determination, fairness, caution, moderation, and hope. In that moment, amid the silent rhythms of the Astral Universe, they celebrated not only his past triumphs but the upcoming journey that would make him their acknowledged champion. *** POV : Canada Maluck was feeling buoyed by his recent streak of good fortune, so he decided to pay a visit to the Chinese shop he credited with his miraculous bracelet. ¡®Surely,¡¯ he thought, ¡®the Action Log must have made an error¡ªthe shop hadn¡¯t scammed him; the Bad Luck Bracelet was amazing.¡¯ This decision to go thank them had nothing at all to do with the System Task that had just popped up. [System Task] Go thank your benefactors. You really should always thank people. Grateful actions spark joy in the universe. Reward: Three luck points. It was a pretty easy task, considering the shop was only a block away. However, when he arrived, he was met with an empty storefront bearing a faded ¡°For Rent¡± sign that practically whispered, ¡°We¡¯re gone.¡± Undeterred, he wandered over to the neighboring shop and asked the store owner, ¡°Do you know where these guys went?¡± He gestured toward the closed store. The owner glanced at Maluck¡¯s cheap-looking bracelet and said, ¡°Looking for a refund, are you? I heard they moved to Calgary.¡± ¡°Why would I need a refund? This bracelet is awesome!¡± Maluck retorted. ¡°Uh, okay,¡± said the shop owner, who had been fielding angry customers from those two before; this was the first guy who¡¯d been grateful. He thought to himself, ¡®Whatever, it¡¯s none of my business.¡¯ ¡°Calgary? That¡¯s like three hours away,¡± Maluck remarked. For some people, a three-hour drive might seem daunting, but it was worth it to him. After all, the Bad Luck bracelet had changed his life, and the chance to thank the source of his newfound fortune was too enticing to ignore. And he really wanted those Luck points! Plus, he was more than ready for a drive in his car¡ªa drive he had never taken before because, in the past, it always ended with another breakdown courtesy of his usual brand of bad luck. He could even imagine the scenario in his head. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He would be driving along, the engine purring smoothly, when suddenly, his car would die without warning. His phone would mysteriously lose signal, leaving him stranded on a suspiciously empty highway. This scenario was tailor-made for a serial killer with a hook hand, lurking somewhere in the dark, ready to make the evening even worse. In his past, ¡°no Bad Luck bracelet¡± life, he wouldn¡¯t even have considered this kind of long drive. But now, things were different. He had the System, and with it, Luck points. Fueled by excitement (and a touch of caffeine), he hit the road. The open highway stretched out before him, a ribbon of possibility promising a fresh start and, hopefully, fewer mishaps. As he cruised along, a bright neon sign flashed ahead: ¡°Casino Yellowjacket 50 km.¡± The bold letters practically shouted at him, daring him to test his upgraded luck powers. ¡°Hellllll Yeah!¡± he shouted, unable to resist the siren call of chance. It felt like the universe itself was tempting him, a flashing beacon of fortune just up the road. With the thrill of the unknown spurring him on, Maluck continued his journey toward Calgary, ready to embrace whatever twists fate had in store. Every mile brought him closer to the mysterious shop¡ªand perhaps to a win at the casino¡ªproving that even in a world that had previously poured bad luck on him, a little luck (and a System) could open up a universe of possibilities. *** After about an hour, he pulled his car into the parking lot of Casino Yellowjacket. The sounds of slot machines beckoned him like a siren¡¯s call, while the entire casino reeked vaguely of cheap deodorizer. The carpets were noticeably worn, and since it was early evening on a weekday, the place was almost eerily empty. Dead-eyed gamblers drifted around, some slumped at blackjack tables, while many tables sat unoccupied. This was no glitzy Las Vegas hotel. Maluck glanced down at his Probability Charm. ¡°Alright, I get a 10% chance of things going my way,¡± he mused, ¡°so I could try my luck at blackjack.¡± But then he paused, remembering enough bad movies to know that if he played blackjack, someone would eventually suspect he was counting cards and promptly boot him out. ¡°That¡¯s definitely not what I need,¡± he muttered. ¡°Hmm, how about roulette? That seems easy enough.¡± He reached into his wallet and grimaced; he didn¡¯t have much cash on him. I mean, really¡ªwho did? Most people just used credit cards. Scanning the casino floor for an ATM¡ªevery good casino had them, right?¡ªhe spotted one in the corner. It was, of course, one of those overpriced machines that charged an extra $5 just to make a withdrawal. Desperate gamblers might cough up that extra cash without a second thought, but for Maluck¡ªa self-proclaimed cheap-ass son of a bitch¡ªthat was an absolute no-go. The idea of paying extra to access his own money felt like a betrayal. With a resigned shake of his head, he turned on his heel and walked back out the door. His mission was clear: find an ATM from his actual bank, one that didn¡¯t treat him like an easy target. Pulling up his phone, he quickly located one just five minutes away. When he finally reached the ATM and inserted his card, a moment of mild unease washed over him. In his past, every time he tried to use a bank card, it was a coin toss whether the ATM would work at all¡ªoften ending up out of cash, or, on one memorable occasion, hijacked by a shady skimmer that read his card and then stole it. Glancing at his character sheet, he noted with relief that he had no Bad Luck Points, though his Good Luck Points had dipped by one, leaving him at: Luck Points: 118 Wait! It had dropped! He paused, staring in disbelief as the notification blinked on his screen. It appeared that his Luck Points had been used to block the usual hourly increase in bad luck¡ªsomething he¡¯d been dreading. The thought made him grin, a surge of relief washing over him. His daily ATM withdrawal limit was $2,000, which meant he had to make four separate transactions of $500 each. He completed them quickly, leaving his bank account at a pitiful $7,842. The military hadn¡¯t exactly been a cash cow, and he¡¯d been splurging on his ex-girlfriend¡¯s acting lessons while also covering rent and bills. So, he fervently hoped that this casino venture would work its magic, or else he¡¯d be stuck as Maluck, the perpetual job hunter, rather than Maluck, the universe-conquering luck god. As he looked at his tiny balance, he couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the absurdity of his situation. Here he was, risking a big chunk of his bank account on a gamble to test his luck, while the cosmos dangled the promise of divine fortune before his eyes. If the casino failed him, he¡¯d be back to dodging rent collectors and counting coins¡ªa fate he was determined to avoid at all costs. POV : Astral Universe The Seven Deadly Sins were watching him as he drove back and forth from the casino, shaking their collective heads in amusement. ¡°Man, this guy is so incompetent,¡± they mused¡ªthough, admittedly, exactly this was the kind of situation they relished. If the choice had been left to the Seven Virtues, they would have picked some goody-two-shoes who spent their days serving soup kitchens or working for non-profits. But no, the Sins had made the right bet with Maluck¡ªwhose very first instinct was to hit a casino. ¡°Why did he have to change his name?¡± Pride asked, his voice dripping with arrogance. ¡°Was the original one not enough to carry all that greatness? Or was the luck too much for even you to handle?¡± ¡°Brah, those pussy Seven Virtues wanted him to get powers for free,¡± replied Wrath with a smirk. ¡°If you don¡¯t put in some effort, how are you gonna get the gainz?¡± Envy piped in, ¡°That¡¯s right. Why should he get free stuff? Every time we use our powers, it costs us. He should have to do something!¡± ¡°And by only changing one letter, it didn¡¯t require us to expend much energy to activate¡ªplus, it saved us a bundle,¡± Gluttony added, grinning at the simplicity of it all. Meanwhile, Sloth said nothing at all, happily lounging in the corner as usual. Their banter, laced with mischief and irreverence, underscored the twisted satisfaction they derived from watching Maluck fumble his way through life¡ªa far cry from the pristine order the Virtues might have preferred.