I Refused to Be the Chosen Hero

"Professor, the answer to that triple integral problem is 42 pi, not 36," Fabian Hart said without looking up from his notes.

The atmosphere in the Advanced Mathematics lecture hall at University College London was still quiet. Professor Aldridge turned around at the blackboard, an eyebrow raised.

"Are you sure, Hart? Show your steps."

Fabian stood up, picked up a piece of chalk, and swiftly wrote out the sequence of calculations. A few students in the front row nodded slowly. The rest just watched with bored expressions.

Suddenly, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered. A subtle vibration hummed through the floor. A thin gray mist crept in through the crack of an open window.

"What is that?" a female student in the middle row asked.

The mist grew thicker. Blue holographic screens materialized in front of everyone in the room. A flat, mechanical voice echoed inside their heads.

[System Initialization Complete]

[Apocalypse Protocol Active]

[Golden Pillars of Light detected in 17 locations across Greater London]

[Chosen Hero Registration Open. Average success rate: 1.6%]

A student in the back row yelled, "What is this?! A hologram? A prank?"

Professor Aldridge held up his hands. "Quiet! Don't panic! This must be a technical glitch..."

The screen in front of the professor displayed additional data. Red numbers scrolled rapidly: casualty estimates, monster lethality rates, mist radius. The professor's face went pale.

"I can see the mortality rate," a guy next to Fabian whispered. "Over 98 percent. That's insane."

Fabian had already pulled a dark gray pocket calculator from his jacket pocket. His fingers moved rapidly over the keys. He plugged in the data appearing on the System screen: the number of pillars, estimated participants, listed success rate, most variable factors, and entry-level monster projections.

"98.4 percent," Fabian muttered softly.

The student next to him turned. "What did you say?"

"The death rate at the golden pillars of light. 98.4 percent." Fabian didn't shift his gaze from the calculator. "The System displays a 1.6 percent success rate. That's a global average they use to entice participants. If you recalculate using London's population density, travel distance, and projected monster aggression within the first five-kilometer radius, the number goes up."

"You're crazy," the student said. "This is a chance to become a hero! Look, tons of people are already running outside!"

Shouts reverberated down the hallway. The window panes rattled. Outside, the fog had turned a dense, murky gray. Several students inside the classroom stood up and bolted for the door.

"Let's go!" a woman screamed. "The nearest pillar is at Regent's Park! It's only a twelve-minute run!"

Professor Aldridge was still standing at the front. "Don't everyone leave! We should..."

The System screen in front of the professor flickered again.

[Warning: Delaying more than 7 minutes decreases survival chance by 23%]

The professor fell silent. Then he grabbed his bag and ran out alongside the rest of the students.

Fabian remained seated. He pressed a button on the calculator once more, double-checking his math.

The student next to him still hadn't left. "Hart, aren't you coming? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

"I've already run the numbers," Fabian replied calmly. "Chance of living if you go to the pillar: 1.6 percent. Chance of living if you seek shelter with food supplies and power: significantly higher."

"You're a coward!"

"I'm a realist." Fabian slipped his calculator back into his pocket. "You're free to leave. I won't stop you."

The student growled, then sprinted off after the others. The lecture hall was nearly empty. Only Fabian and two hesitant students near the door remained.

"Hart," one of them said, voice trembling. "Are you serious about not going? Everyone says this is the only way to get powers."

"Everyone else didn't do the math," Fabian answered. He stood up, adjusted his jacket, and grabbed the backpack that always held his notebooks, spare charger, and two bottles of water. "The System is offering Chosen Hero status. That status comes with mandatory quests, more aggressive monsters, and a target on your back. I have no interest in being a target."

"But if you don't take it, you won't get skills!"

"Skills are useless if you're dead in the first fifteen minutes." Fabian walked toward the back door of the lecture hall, which led to the emergency stairwell. "I have data. You have hope. Make your choice."

The two students exchanged glances, then bolted toward the main hallway. Fabian opened the emergency exit door. Mist was already creeping into the building, bringing a distinct smell of metal and damp earth.

Outside, the streets of Bloomsbury were pure chaos. Thousands of people were running north toward Regent's Park. The mechanical chime of System notifications echoed everywhere.

[Golden Pillars of Light Active. Time remaining for registration: 6 minutes 42 seconds]

[Early bird bonus for the first 1,000 registrants: Random Rank-B Skill]

A middle-aged man slammed into Fabian's shoulder as he ran past. "Get out of the way! You're blocking the path to the pillar!"

Fabian didn't reply. He turned around and headed south, walking away from the crowd.

A woman shouted from across the street. "Hey! You're going the wrong way! The pillar is to the north!"

Fabian simply raised a hand briefly without looking back. He kept walking. The calculator in his pocket felt cool. The figure 98.4 percent remained crystal clear in his mind.

At the Gower Street intersection, he paused for a second. The System screen materialized before his eyes again.

[Individual Detected: Fabian Hart]

[Intelligence Stat: 98.7 – Extremely High]

[System Recommendation: Pursue the Chosen Hero path. Maximum contribution chance to species survival: 94%]

[Do you accept the Main Quest: "Head to the Golden Pillar of Light – Regent's Park"?]

Fabian stared at the screen for three seconds. Then he swiped his finger through the air, declining.

[Rejection Recorded]

[Warning: Repeated refusal will trigger coercion protocols]

"Just try it," Fabian muttered softly.

He thrust his hands into his pockets, felt his calculator, and resumed walking. His destination was clear: an underground convenience store near Tottenham Court Road Station that he knew had a backup generator and a sizeable supply of canned food. Not a pillar of light. Not hero status.

Behind him, the screams of the people running north drifted further into the distance. The mist grew thicker. The distorted sirens of the System continued to sound, offering glory, power, and immortality.

Fabian didn't look back. He had already calculated the odds. And numbers never lie.