Sam’s eyes opened with a start, the bright lights of the classroom making him wince. He’d dozed off for a second, his mind drifting right on the edge of dreaming. The drone of the lecturer was a constant hum, swaddling the hall like a soft, warm blanket. It took all his force of will to keep his head upright in a rough approximation of engaged listening. He was firmly of the opinion that whoever thought that 8:00 AM classes were acceptable in the year 2025 should be sent a strongly worded email.

  His eyes had trouble focusing on the tiny man at the front of the class, despite some distant part of his brain registering that this material would almost certainly be on the exam. Why does this class even have an exam? Three years into his Master's, and he still failed to grasp the efficacy of stuffing an entire semester's worth of grading into a single test worth fifty percent of your mark. Surely there were better ways of ascertaining whether or not a student actually comprehended the course material.

  Like a thesis paper!

  Fuck.

  He groaned internally, mind drifting back to the paper that still sat half-written on his laptop. Despite weeks of late nights and hundreds of hours in the lab, he didn't feel any closer to defending his thesis than he had at the start of the semester.

  Biochemistry hadn’t been his first choice of degree, but when he’d made the call to pivot away from becoming a doctor—much to the frustration of his parents—it had seemed like the path with the best career opportunities.

  Vancouver had a decent number of labs, and even if he didn't pursue his PhD, he’d have plenty of options for work. Despite his overall lack of enthusiasm about school, he did enjoy the lab. There was something deeply satisfying about setting up a series of tests and tallying the results. There was no failure in the lab. Even if things didn't turn out how you expected, you still learned something.

  Well, no failure unless your goal was to prove a very specific hypothesis and then proceed to get entirely contradictory results for three straight months.

  He laid his head on his laptop keyboard, succumbing to his fatigue and contemplating whether or not it was too late to become a business major. He swore he’d never actually seen one of them working. His roommate was always off at another networking event, which he was fairly sure was code for rave. The entire degree seemed to consist of memorizing various acronyms. He was confident he could ROI his CAGR into some B2B EBITDA or whatever, but that would require him to make small talk.

  That was another reason he enjoyed the lab. He frequently volunteered to have his tests conclude overnight, meaning he could keep his time spent around others to an absolute minimum. It's not that he disliked people; it's just that there was always the constant expectation to say something.

  “Oh, what have you been up to lately, Sam?”

  “Nothing much, person I barely know! Just the same mundane routine of school, work, and deeply unfulfilling relationships!”

  One day, he’d actually say that just to see what the reaction would be. Somehow, he suspected that he wasn't alone in his particular brand of Gen Z malaise.

  The warmth of the hall continued to sink him further and further into his stupor. His decision to get another five minutes of sleep rather than making coffee was quickly catching up to him. He was just beginning to drift off when he found himself forcefully awoken by his laptop letting out an ear-splitting chime.

  Ding!

  He jerked his head backwards and nearly launched the computer across the hall. He was fortunate his panicked yelp had been mostly lost in the sound of the notification, but his neighbours were still trying and failing not to burst out laughing. His friend Kevin wasn't even trying.

  “Are you alright, Mr. Lin?” the professor called from the front of the class. “I hope my lecture isn't interrupting your sleep schedule.”

  I mean, it absolutely is.

  “Sorry, Professor Singh, just an email. I thought I had the volume off.” He gave a sheepish grin, and the professor let out an exasperated sigh before returning to his slides.

  Sam ignored Kevin’s jab to the bicep and instead turned to his email tab, trying to find the source of the outrageously loud notification. Sure enough, he had a new message waiting for him at the top of his inbox, the subject line making him question why it hadn’t immediately been sent to spam.

  Congratulations! You’ve Been Selected!

  He sighed and clicked it, quickly scanning the contents before exiting. It looked as though he’d been picked for some sort of beta test for a new game, though he didn't remember registering for it. A quick Google search brought up nothing, which was odd.

  Probably something out of China, just hasn't made it over here yet. Apparently, it involved ascending the seven levels of Mt. Olympos and gaining the powers of the mythical pantheon. Seemed like a pretty classic RPG setup, but the unfortunate reality was, he just didn't have time for games these days.

  He wondered if his cousin had signed him up for it. He helped run an esports organization out in Hong Kong and was always trying to get Sam to play with him. He’d learned his lesson after a brief stint grinding League of Legends. Playing on the Chinese server was just asking for punishment.

  “What was that?” Kevin whispered, glancing surreptitiously at the laptop screen.

  “Some sort of beta test? Just not sure why the notification was so loud.” He checked his laptop again and noticed that his volume had been cranked to the max. He must have accidentally leaned on the volume key when he passed out.

  Goddamnit. He made a mental note to message his cousin about the game and tried to refocus on the class, counting down the seconds until the professor eventually dismissed them.

  “You want to grab a coffee?” Kevin asked as they grabbed their jackets and packed up their computers. “You look like you could use it.”

  “Thanks, bud,” Sam replied, rubbing his eyes, knowing it would do nothing for the perpetual bags that hung there. “Yeah, I need to head to AQ anyway, we can pick up something there.”

  “Cool. A bunch of us are grabbing lunch and studying later. You should come.” Sam raised his head in a non-committal jerk. The dining hall was one of the noisier places on campus, and his success with study groups had been lacklustre at best. Kevin was the kind of person who mingled in a lot of different circles, and Sam often found himself on the fringe of conversation, if not outright ignored.

  There had been a time when they'd been closer, but Sam had felt himself retracting in recent years. People he’d once considered close friends had faded to acquaintances. Mostly it was his fault, and he felt guilty that he hadn't done more to maintain them. He was just so tired all the time, and the idea of spending any of his free moments with other people only added to the fatigue.

  “Yeah, we’ll see. I really need to get into this paper. The lab results have been…not good.” He let the words trail off, and Kevin gave him a strained smile.

  “I'm sure it'll come around. You can always talk to Professor Jones about deferring or changing it, right? It's not like you're stuck with it.”

  “Yeah, I just…” The reality was that he had zero desire to try to change it now. He’d doubled down on seeing through his hypothesis, and he was well past the window to justifiably pivot. The embarrassment of having to go back and switch it was worse than the possibility of failure.

  “Anyway,” he said, forcibly changing the subject, “coffee. Let's get coffee.”

  The rest of the morning was spent in a not-unfamiliar slump as he drifted between buildings. Simon Fraser University had a pretty sprawling campus, but exam season made every chair and plug a precious commodity as students fought for places to study. The May weather was its usual dreary self, and he was forced to take shelter indoors, trying to make some progress on his paper.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The longer he stared at the screen, the worse it got. The words seemed to melt together, and time slowed to a trickle, the morning stretching out into an overcast grey smear. The day seemed to epitomize the perpetual rut that he’d found himself in the past few months. While he knew that on paper things were moving forward, he couldn't help but feel stuck.

  His whole life had been training to go do the next thing, and now that he was finally facing the culmination of that—going out in the world and getting a real job—he wasn't even sure if that's what he wanted. He sat there listlessly, staring at the crowds of people around him, but not really seeing them. At that moment, he realized he couldn't even remember the last time he’d been truly happy.

  The revelation was both unwelcome and unsurprising as he ran his fingers through his unruly dark hair, catching a glimpse of himself in his laptop’s now black screen. The computer, at least, was getting some sleep.

  He was a mess. His dark brown eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them puffy and irritated. I look like Dad, he thought to himself, recalling a memory of his father coming home after working an overnight shift in the ER.

  Physically, they were very different. While his father had been born and raised in Hong Kong, Sam’s mother was Swedish, and he’d inherited more of her physique. He was tall, and a childhood of sports and martial arts had left him in better shape than his now near-sedentary lifestyle deserved.

  The eyes, though, those were his Dad’s, boring into him through his reflection with an uncanny intensity. They were trying to tell him something, something important.

  His contemplation was shattered as a strangely familiar Ding sounded through the lounge. His neighbours once again gave him strange looks, and he realized that the notification had come from his pocket. He checked his phone to see a text from an unknown number. Curious, he opened it to see a familiar message.

  Congratulations! You’ve Been Selected!

  The War is once again upon us, and you, Samuel Lin, through random draw, have been chosen as one of humanity's representatives. Warriors from across the galaxy are being assembled on Mt. Olympos, all with the goal of reaching the summit and the Halls of Eternity.

  Only seven souls will see that destiny realized and ask a boon of the Infinite Pantheon. Immortality, riches…power. Your wildest dreams are attainable if you have the will and the strength to seize them.

  The path is fraught with danger, the journey rife with peril. Gather your allies around you and prepare yourself for what lies ahead. Do you have what it takes to achieve victory in The Seven Rings War?

  Your trial begins in [00:04:14:28]

  Sam’s brow furrowed, and he read the message through twice before deleting it. What in the hell? Somehow, this developer has gotten their hands on his phone number as well. He was really going to talk to his cousin about sharing his personal information.

  The countdown was new, and he couldn't help but feel a trickle of trepidation at the sight of the numbers. Logically, he knew it must be when the servers went live, but the new inclusion gave the message a vaguely ominous feeling.

  He sighed and triple checked to make sure his phone was firmly on silent, bypassing vibrate completely in an attempt to stifle that earsplitting notification. He glanced at the time and packed up his laptop, trying to shake the lingering sense of dread that hung over him.

  He set off towards the dining hall, figuring he might as well take Kevin up on his offer and grab some lunch. The thought of being around people was strangely comforting, and he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he was being watched.

  The Commons was packed, but he was able to grab a sandwich before weaving his way through the crowd to Kevin’s table. A group of semi-familiar faces greeted him, and he received a few smiles as he set down his tray—one of the girls shifting her bags to free up a seat. Kevin gave him a brief wave before returning to his conversation. Sam was pretty sure he was dating one or both of the women he was talking to. He wondered if they knew that.

  “Hi, I'm Lily, Irene’s friend,” said the girl who'd moved her bag, gesturing to one of Kevin's…girlfriends?

  “Um, hi, I’m Sam.” He gave a strained smile.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” he replied, knowing full well it was in fact the third time they'd met, and the third time they'd had the same awkward exchange. He put on a neutral expression as he ate his sandwich, wondering how long he’d have to stay before it became socially acceptable to leave.

  “So, what’s your major?” Lily asked, seemingly content to follow their usual script.

  “Biochemistry, how about you?” he responded, fully aware she was pre-med, but not wanting to look like some kind of creep.

  “Medicine. I start my PhD next semester.” And on it went.

  Sam asked questions where it was appropriate, but generally followed their standard routine, realizing it was probably four times, given that he was pretty sure they'd hung out at a party during the first year of undergrad.

  He was sad to admit that this wasn't an uncommon experience. There was something about him that was simply forgettable. He didn't think he was ugly, but he also didn't look like the idols that covered the laptops and notebooks of his peers. Most of the time, he didn't mind. He had no desire to stand out, but he couldn't help but feel like shit during exchanges like this.

  Fortunately, he was spared further torture by the sudden ringing of a cellphone. It chimed a few times before Lily asked, “Are you going to answer that?”

  It was only then that he realized that it was, in fact, his phone that was ringing, despite his absolute certainty that it was on silent.

  “Uh, yeah,” he replied, oddly thankful for the divine intervention. Normally, he wouldn't answer a call from a number he didn't know, but anything was better than this trainwreck of a conversation. He jogged across the dining hall, stepping outside and out of the din.

  “Hello?”

  “Congratulations! Samuel Lin, you have been selected as a participant in the Seven Rings War!” The man’s voice wouldn't have been out of place hosting a television game show. “As one of Earth’s representatives, you’ll be engaged in an epic, life-or-death battle to ascend the Spire and defeat your enemies.

  “But don't worry, you won't be alone! Assemble a party of worthy warriors and work together to overcome treacherous dungeons and terrifying monsters, all while trying to curry the favour of the gods themselves! Beseech your patron and unlock incredible magic and feats of arms. Wield the power of the Pantheon, and claim your destiny!”

  The man finished his spiel and paused expectantly. “Yeah, no, thank you. I'm good.” Sam looked around and wondered if he was on some kind of prank show. “I really don't have time for games right now. I appreciate the whole marketing thing, but if you could just take me off your list, unsubscribe me or whatever. That would be great.”

  “Sam, this is no game! This is a unique opportunity—”

  “Look man,” Sam cut in, “I don't know you. I didn't sign up for this, and I'm not interested. Okay? So, please just take me off your mailing list. Thanks.” The man began to speak again, but Sam hung up, shaking his head.

  He appreciated that times were tough for everyone, but he absolutely could not stomach telemarketing. There was just something profoundly off-putting about someone calling you out of the blue with the express purpose of trying to sell you a product.

  He turned to walk back into the hall when the phone rang again. He swore the ringer was somehow louder than before, and he tried to decline the call. To his surprise, the button refused to swipe.

  What the fuck?

  He reluctantly answered the call, holding the phone up to his ear.

  “Look, Samuel,” the voice now sounded decidedly less bombastic.“I don't think you're quite grasping the gravity of the situation. This is an incredible honour for any human.”

  Sam’s face scrunched as he once again searched for someone filming him. The man’s language was bizarre, and Sam was beginning to wonder if he was forced to stick to some poorly translated script. Not for the first time, he regretted not maintaining his Cantonese.

  “I’m sorry, I know you're only doing your job, but I really need you to stop calling me. My phone is being super weird today, and I've got class later, so please, just stop.”

  “Samuel, believe me, nothing would make me happier than to cease this communication, but I need you to understand what it is I'm telling you. This is not a game. The Arbiter has made their selection; you are in the War. You simply need to accept that, and I'll leave you, well, not in peace, but alone, anyway.”

  Sam let out a long exhale, shoulders sagging. “Fine, yes. Sounds good, I will totally check out the game. I'll download it.”

  “Again, Samuel, this is not a game, this is—”

  “Yes, I get it, very serious. You made your sale, man, thank you!” Sam hit the ‘end call’ button and felt a rush of relief when it actually worked. He re-entered the dining hall to see the group packing up to leave, Lily waiting impatiently by his bag.

  “Hey, sorry about that,” Sam said, rushing over.

  “It's fine, I just didn't want to leave with your stuff here. You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?”

  “What?” Sam looked up at the clock, eyes going wide as he realized over an hour had passed since he'd stepped out to take the call. That couldn't be right; he'd barely been gone five minutes. “Uh, yeah, just a very strange phone call.”

  “You should listen to him,” Lily replied. Her voice was completely monotone, her face oddly blank.

  “Excuse me?” Sam asked, face giving an involuntary twitch. “What did you say?”

  Lily looked taken aback, surprised at his sudden change in tone. “I didn't say anything, I just asked if you were okay.”

  Sam took a step back, a flush creeping in at his neck. “Right, yeah. Sorry, I'm just a little stressed out. I gotta get to class.”

  “Sure, good luck with your thesis.” She gave him a concerned look as she hurried off to join her friends. Sam found himself breathing heavily, her strange, empty words ringing in his ears.

  You should listen to him.

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