Luck: ZERO

The morning sun spilled through the glass walls of the Alvaro Tower, washing Lucien Alvaro III’s penthouse in gold. From sixty stories up, Manila looked peaceful—jeepneys glinting like toy cars, the Pasig River catching light like a ribbon of mercury. Lucien stood before the window, coffee in hand, watching the city he had conquered. At twenty-seven, he was the face of everything the Philippines wanted to believe about itself: sharp, charming, unstoppable. The press called him the Lucky Star of Makati—the man whose touch turned every venture into gold. Stock channels tracked his tweets; pastors quoted his interviews about perseverance. He should have felt satisfied. Instead, he felt hollow. His phone buzzed with another notification—hundreds of thousands of hearts pulsing beneath his latest post: Launch day. Fortune favors the brave. He stared at the caption for a long second, then set the phone facedown. Fortune. The word made his stomach twist. He had worked for years—sleepless nights, hostile takeovers, a thousand quiet humiliations—but everyone insisted he was simply lucky. Not brilliant, not relentless—just fortunate. Every time someone said it, a piece of him chipped away. A soft chime cut through the silence. It wasn’t his phone. A message appeared mid-air, projected from nothing, a faint blue light shimmering before his eyes. *** [Luck System Online] Welcome, Player. Initializing World Protocol: The Great Gamble. *** Lucien blinked. The text hovered in front of him, crisp and impossible. Then the building’s alarm system screamed. His glass desk trembled; outside, traffic dissolved into chaos as glowing panels appeared over every person on the street. He backed away from the window. Some kind of AR hack? But his devices were offline. He touched the projection—felt cold static against his fingers. *** All humans are now Players. Luck determines survival. Display Luck Value? [YES / NO] *** His breath caught. The words Luck Value made his skin prickle. He hesitated—then, curiosity winning, said aloud, “Yes.” The light flickered. **** Name: Lucien Alvaro III Luck (LUC): 0 Warning: Probability anomaly detected. Correction protocol pending. *** Zero. Lucien’s pulse hammered. Impossible. He blinked hard, reopening the interface, but the number didn’t change. The nation’s self-proclaimed Lucky Star had no luck at all. Outside, bells began to ring—church bells, mosque loudspeakers, warning sirens—each sound bleeding into the other. Television anchors shouted over trembling voices. “…stay calm, mga kapatid, this may be a test of faith…” “…scientists can’t explain the light; authorities urge prayer…” In every district, people looked upward, crossing themselves or lifting their palms in supplication. Some knelt in the streets, some whispered “Bismillah,” others clutched rosaries until their fingers bled. No one understood what they were seeing. The impossible had walked into daylight. Lucien’s phone erupted—calls, alerts, messages exploding across the screen. He answered one at random. “Sir!” his assistant gasped. “Everyone’s got this thing in front of them! Some people’s numbers are high, some are low—and the news wants you on live stream. They’re calling it the System Awakening.” He almost laughed. “You think I have time for a prank—” “Sir, it’s not a prank. The President just showed his number—three thousand! People say it’s a blessing from heaven!” The line died. ⸻ By noon, Lucien’s office had become a newsroom. Reporters and camera drones swarmed the lobby. The public demanded to know his number. After all, if luck now defined life itself, the nation’s Lucky Star had to be their sign that order remained. His publicist whispered, “If you show your score, it’ll calm everyone. Even the clergy are asking.” He forced a smile. “Of course.” The studio lights burned hot against his skin. Behind the cameras, his employees watched him with desperate hope, as though his number would decide their future. He lifted his wrist; the blue panel shimmered open for all to see. For a moment, silence. Then gasps rippled through the crowd. *** [LUC: 0] *** A single zero. A perfect, merciless circle. The anchor’s voice broke. “M-Mr. Alvaro… is this an error?” Lucien tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. “Perhaps the universe finally ran out of favors.” Someone murmured a prayer; another shouted a curse. The feed exploded across social media—The Lucky Star’s Luckless Curse! Memes, panic, disbelief. Outside, processions formed—candles, Qur’ans, images of saints. Some prayed for mercy; others demanded answers from heaven. A few simply stared at their glowing panels, whispering that maybe the world had entered a season beyond scripture. By the time Lucien left the studio, his company’s stock had fallen forty percent. ⸻ By evening, the streets were war zones of confusion. Some people danced, shouting their high numbers. Others wept, clutching panels marked with single digits. Churches overflowed; imams spoke to crowds that spilled into traffic. No one claimed to understand, yet everyone searched for meaning. Lucien walked alone through Ayala Avenue, his face hidden under a cap. Billboards flickered with live Luck rankings. Lightning rolled over the skyline though the air was dry. He stopped beside a man praying over his dead wife; her panel had displayed LUC 1 before it dissolved into static. The man looked up at him, eyes bloodshot. “You’re him,” the man whispered. “The Lucky Star. You took all the luck for yourself.” Lucien stepped back. “No. I—” The man lunged. “Give it back!” A system chime rang in Lucien’s ears. *** Task Generated: Survive 24 hours without external assistance. Reward: +10 Luck Failure Consequence: Erasure from probability. Timer: 23:59:59 *** Pain lanced through his skull. The world tilted, color draining until only the blue text remained. He staggered backward as the man swung at him with a piece of rebar. The blow missed—barely. Cars screeched, people shouted, drones zipped overhead. Lucien darted into an alley, heart thundering. Erasure from probability. What did that even mean? Death? Non-existence? He collapsed against a wall, gasping. The city roared around him like an animal. Another chime. *** Luck Event: Coin Toss. A stranger flips a coin nearby. Heads: You live. Tails: You die. *** “What—?” A street vendor two meters away bent to pick up something shiny. A coin. He tossed it idly toward a gutter. It spun once—twice—then vanished down a drain without landing. The panel flickered. *** Result: Undefined. Probability interference detected. *** The coin hadn’t chosen. Neither had fate. Lucien stared, cold realization creeping through him. Zero Luck didn’t mean bad luck. It meant none at all. The System couldn’t read him; probability refused to touch him. He laughed—a raw, broken sound that startled the vendor. “Looks like fortune finally gave up on me.” Above the skyline, thousands of blue lights bloomed like stars—every panel in Manila pulsing as the System fully awakened. And somewhere within that electric storm, Lucien’s own screen whispered: *** Anomaly confirmed. Designation: Luckless Entity. Observation priority: Top. Good luck, Lucien Alvaro III. *** He wiped the sweat from his face and stared at the neon city beyond the alley. The bells still rang—steady, uncertain, human. For the first time in his life, the world wasn’t rigged in his favor. For the first time, he was free. ⸻