CHAPTER 33: 33: IMPOSSIBLE LUCK

"Yes? What do you want to say, Joseph?" the Lightning God asked calmly, his eyes still fixed on Aaron, who had just disappeared into the rift. His voice was casual, almost bored, but his senses were sharp—he had already noticed Joseph’s lingering gaze.

Joseph stood rigid, the frown on his face deepening. "Are you really the mastermind behind the attempt on his life?"

The Lightning God’s brows arched slightly in amusement, though his gaze never shifted. "And why would you care about that? I thought you hated him."

Joseph didn’t flinch. His voice was firm, his tone honest. "I only hated him because he sullied my master’s name... with his weakness, his cowardice, his failure to rise. But the Aaron I saw today? That wasn’t weakness. That was strength—gritted, raw, and defiant. I have no qualms with that."

His words caught Liam off guard. He turned to look at Joseph, surprise flickering across his face. This wasn’t something he expected to hear from the so-called mad berserker.

"Hmm," the Lightning God murmured, expression unreadable. "It seems we all misjudged you."

Then his lips curled into something cold and faintly amused.

"And if I had wanted him dead, Joseph... he wouldn’t be standing here today."

And just like that, the Lightning God vanished in a flash of lightning, his presence dissipating with a low electric hum.

Joseph stared at the spot where he stood moments ago. "You better not," he muttered, voice low and laced with deadly intent. "Or else I swear to hunt you to the ends of the earth."

Without another word, he returned to his seat, as did everyone else who had stood during the confrontation.

"Joseph, the mad berserker... and Aaron, the—well, he doesn’t deserve a title yet," Levi chuckled, leaning back with an amused grin. "But if I were to give him one, it’d probably be The Arrogant Prick Who Dared Talk to a Demigod Like an Equal."

He shook his head, a smirk on his face. He had just witnessed two lunatics stand against a demigod—one of them not even a C-rank yet. The sheer audacity was impressive in its own right.

---

Aaron passed through the rift and arrived in an entirely new place—a secluded valley, overgrown and wild. Towering trees loomed above like silent guardians, and thick roots curled like serpents across the forest floor. The air was humid, filled with the scent of moss and damp earth.

"Time to show them what I’m made of," Aaron muttered, cracking his neck with a grin. His earlier words to the crowd were still echoing in their minds. He had lit a fire in the hearts of his competitors—and that was exactly what he wanted. No boring competition. No easy kills. Let them come at him.

He strolled casually through the underbrush, his steps unhurried.

Then, out of nowhere, an F-rank goblin burst from a thicket and charged at him with a crude spear.

"My first point," Aaron muttered, cracking his knuckles and preparing to strike—

—but the goblin tripped on a loose stone mid-run. The stone shot into the air and slammed into the goblin’s temple with a dull crack, knocking it out cold at Aaron’s feet.

Ting!

His smartwatch vibrated, and a notification appeared: +1 Point

Aaron stared blankly at the body.

He hadn’t even moved.

What the hell?

He grimaced. "I didn’t even do anything..."

The irritation on his face was palpable. He felt cheated. This wasn’t how he wanted to announce his return. This wasn’t glorious.

"That was just a bug... it won’t happen again," he muttered, shaking it off.

Aaron walked on.

Bored, he gave a lazy kick to a pebble lying in his path.

The small stone bounced off another rock, which knocked against a rusted sword embedded half-buried in the ground. The sword flipped end-over-end, crashing hilt-first into a strange stack of goblin-placed pebbles balanced on a tree stump.

The top pebble rolled, hit a brittle branch, and triggered a cascade. The stump collapsed. A rock it supported dropped onto a taut vine tied between two boulders.

Snap!

The vine whipped backward with violent force, pulling a camouflaged tripwire nearby. A hidden goblin trap activated, dislodging a rotting tree propped up behind a curtain of ivy.

Grooooaaan...

CRASH!

The massive tree came tumbling down with an echoing roar—straight onto a bush where a lone goblin had been squatting, trying to inspect its club for termites.

SPLAT.

Aaron turned slowly, eyes wide as dust rose in the distance.

Ting!

Another point.

He blinked.

"...I just kicked a rock."

He stared at the scene. A tree. A mangled goblin. Some rocks. His foot.

He turned back around, hands stuffed in his pockets, and walked away without a word.

This was stupid luck. Impossible luck.

But the points kept coming.

One thing after another—a falling branch here, a tumbling stone there—and goblins kept dying in ridiculous, convoluted ways that somehow credited him as the killer.

He was topping the rankings.

Without even trying.

"What the actual hell is going on?!" Aaron finally roared in frustration, staring at his smartwatch. His name was at the very top of the leaderboard, miles ahead of everyone else.

He hadn’t shown his skills. Hadn’t even lifted a finger properly. Yet here he was, leading the entire trial.

"How does the watch even calculate this crap?! Are you telling me coincidence kills count?!"

He wanted glory. A challenge. Recognition from power, not dumb luck.

"I’m not mad at the points," he grumbled, pacing. "No capitalist ever cries over free profit. But what the hell is the point of winning if I can’t even flex while doing it?!"

He paused.

"And how the hell does sneezing kill a direwolf?! What kind of malnourished beast has health that fragile?!"

He clutched his head. It was driving him mad.

---

Meanwhile, reactions outside were mixed.

Within the Valley of Conquest, where all competitors were doing their best to survive, Aaron’s rise was seen as nothing short of divine. In less than a day, he had racked up twice the score of the second place contender.

"GO BROTHER!!!" Leo shouted at the top of his lungs, voice echoing through the valley. He wasn’t even in the top 100—but he didn’t care. That was his best friend.

Others weren’t so joyful.

Dan stared at the leaderboard with clenched fists. Seeing "Aaron Highborn – Rank 1" in bold, glowing letters felt like a personal insult. His own hard-earned points meant nothing in comparison.

Outside the valley, across the globe, people watched the exam’s broadcast in stunned silence. Every miraculous kill, every absurd twist of fate—captured, replayed, and dissected.

Back in the control hall, the tension was thick.

"You’re manipulating the results," the Lightning God said coldly, his eyes narrowing. His voice was sharp as thunder. "Dream, I thought you swore neutrality above all else."

He turned to the Demigod of Illusion, seated not far from him.

Dream didn’t blink. Her voice was soft and serene, like wind in a dreamscape. "It is not my doing. He simply has great luck. Even I am surprised."

The Lightning God’s eyes searched her face. "Is that so?"

"I have no reason to lie to you," she said, folding her hands calmly. "Unlike others, I don’t fear you. Your growth rate may be fast, but I’m confident I’ll always remain ahead. So do yourself a favor, Lightning God—keep your pride in check before you piss off everyone and trigger a war you won’t walk away from."

A tense silence followed.

Three other Demigods—among them, the Vine Master—watched quietly. None of them stepped in. They didn’t have to.

Dream’s words carried more weight than lightning.