2026-08-25 17:17:42"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.
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Chapter 126: The First Breach at Dawn
The northern perimeter of the settlement woke not to the gentle chirping of morning birds or the quiet rustle of autumn leaves, but to the cold, unforgiving bite of a winter frost and the sudden, violent shudder of frozen earth. At first light, breath pluming in the freezing air like thick white smoke, a heavy, muffled thud vibrated upward through the hard-packed soil. It was the kind of deep, concussive impact that did not merely rattle the ears; it settled directly into the bones of everyone standing near the barricades.Before the reverberation could even fully fade into the gray morning mist, it was followed immediately by the sharp, splintering crack of stressed pine. The sound was distinct, ugly, and entirely unmistakable—the unmistakable shriek of wood fibers tearing apart under immense, unnatural pressure.Vance’s advance guard had initiated their surprise dawn strike against the newly patched northern gate. They were not knocking politely, nor were they waiting for the mornin
Chapter 125: Preparing for the Siege
"If anyone else tries to requisition extra timber without my direct, written authorization, I’m personally nailing their boots to the floorboards of the command hall," Fabian roared, slamming his heavy brass paperweight down onto a stack of requisition forms with a force that rattled the inkwell."Stop shouting at the carpenters, Fabian, or you'll be the one building the wall when Vance's advance guard crests the northern ridge," Evelyn snapped back, marching past his outdoor desk without breaking her stride. Her boots crunched sharply over the scattered wood shavings that carpeted the central square. "We don't have time for your administrative tantrums. Miller needs every available hand at the western gate right now.""My tantrums are the only thing keeping this settlement from collapsing into a disorderly pile of kindling and debt!" Fabian shouted after her, jabbing his quill into a fresh sheet of parchment with venomous precision. "A settlement without an accurate log of its timber
Chapter 124: The Unseen Watcher
"If you drop that strap in the mud, Kael, I'm going to charge you administrative fees for soiling municipal evidence," Fabian muttered, not looking up from his endless columns of grain distribution figures as the scout kicked the command hall door wide open.Kael didn’t apologize. He tossed a heavy, oil-darkened strip of supple calfskin directly onto the center of the clerk’s freshly inked ledger, the wet mud splattering across the pristine margins with a soft, offensive thwack."Save your ledgers, Fabian," Kael said, his voice flat and dangerously low. He leaned his palms against the edge of the desk, his dark eyes locking onto the administrator's round spectacles. "Look at the buckle. Standard-issue brass plating, double-stitched with waxed hemp. That didn't fall off a stray merchant mule."Fabian dropped his quill, his face turning an alarming shade of mottled crimson as he stared at the soiled parchment. "Do you have any absolute conception of the bureaucratic damage you have just
Chapter 123: Lily’s Bargain
"If you think a basket of wilted root vegetables entitles you to priority water rights during a municipal drought, Lily, you fundamentally misunderstand the statutory boundaries of the agricultural ledger," Fabian snapped, his quill scratching an aggressive line across the parchment.Lily did not flinch. She set a heavy, woven wicker hamper directly on top of the administrator’s open accounts, her fingers stained deep with dried loam and crushed dandelion stems."They aren't wilted, Fabian; they are winter-hardy feverfew and iron-root leaf, freshly harvested from the southern beds before the morning frost locked the soil," Lily said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, measured cadence. "And you know damn well that without those herbs, half your clerical staff will be coughing up black lung from the workshop dust before the week is out."Fabian’s quill froze half an inch above a new column. He stared at the woven rim of the hamper, his jaw working as his mind calculated the precise e
Chapter 122: The Carpenter’s Blueprint
"If you spill a single drop of ink on these charcoal lines, Fabian, I'll staple your collar to the outer gatehouse and let the crows settle the administrative dispute," Miller growled, sliding a massive, dirt-smudged scroll across the scarred oak workbench with a heavy thud.Fabian didn't even flinch. He adjusted his round spectacles, peering down at the crude, dark streaks smeared across the rough-cut parchment. "Threatening an administrator with avian-inflicted property damage is a Class Four infraction under the municipal charter, Miller, but given the appalling lack of straight edges on this draft, I'd say the wind is going to ruin your fortifications long before the crows arrive.""Straight edges don't stop a Westminster battering ram," Miller snapped, planting both thick, calloused palms on the edge of the wood and leaning aggressively across the table. "Look at the angle. Thirty degrees off-center. Any iron ball or heavy timber they hurl from the ridge hits this shield and glan
Chapter 121: Dawn Logistics
"If another apprentice brings me lukewarm chicory instead of true leaf tea before the first ledger entry is balanced, I am locking the rations bin and throwing the iron key directly down the dry latrine," Fabian snarled, slamming his brass-weighted ruler against the edge of the weathered crate with a crack that sounded like a dry pistol shot.The trembling young boy standing opposite the makeshift desk flinched so violently he nearly dropped the steaming tin cup onto the ink-stained parchment. "The kettle wouldn't draw, sir. The damp got into the peat stacks behind the northern wall during the night fog.""Damp is an environmental variable, boy, not a legal defense for administrative incompetence," Fabian snapped, snatching the tin cup from the youth's blistered fingers and glaring into the murky brown liquid. "Look at this film on the surface. It tastes like stagnant ditch water boiled over charred fence posts. Go back to the quartermaster and tell him if he issues me another pound o
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