Each of the 9 core stats is located under one of 3 domains: Hand, Heart, and Mind. Which go where?

  There was a moment of panic as Remi’s mind blanked. How was he supposed to know? But as he took a breath and calmed himself, he could rationalize. Okay, the question came when I mentioned my physical stats. So maybe that is a clue. Logically then, if agility, strength and endurance go together. They would fit under hand, so that seemed to make the most sense. They are all physical doing stats. If the pattern continued, the remaining two domains should split the leftover six stats evenly, three each. So that is 3 each. I know that mages all got intelligence, wisdom and agility. But if agility is out, then lore seems to be the most probable. That leaves Luck, Stealth and Charisma going in heart. That domain seemed strange, but the other two groupings were sound. So he locked it in.

  

  I thought that would trick you a bit. As most people figure, the heart is about feelings. It’s actually about willpower, presence, and fate alignment. Those are all heart stats because they all reflect how your inner will shapes the world around you. So good for you on getting it right.

  Remi laughed, “I guessed.”

  Archie sounded a bit disappointed. Good guess then.

  The domain question erased itself, and Remi was back to assigning his stats. Okay, he had put one in intelligence, and had 6 in the hand. Better than a bird in the hand, he figured. That left 3, so what was missing? Wisdom and lore both seemed important. They were his lowest leaning stats, so one could go in each. And as for the last point. Hell, one for good luck. He was just about to lock it in when there was another announcement.

  

  I grant you three more wishes. In all good stories, people always get three wishes. It’s a mystical number with mystical power. So, poof, what d’ya need? You can assign three additional points.

  Remi was getting to the edge of his ability to hold all these numbers together. He had spent too long thinking and was now down to 14 minutes of life remaining. He needed to get this locked in as there was still a question and an entire other remaining part to this test. , why was it so damn long?

  Okay, he would put two more in Endurance. He really didn't want to die. One in wisdom, so all his knowledge stats were high and that wisdom and lore were balanced. He looked at his choices.

  Strength: 2

  Agility: 2

  Endurance: 5

  Intelligence: 1

  Wisdom: 1

  Lore: 1

  Luck: 1

  He did a quick total: yes, 13. He drew a box around the numbers, locking them in. In the end, he’d spread thirteen points, lucky thirteen, across everything he needed to survive: strength, agility, endurance, intelligence, wisdom, lore, and luck.

  [HUD UPDATE – STAT Selection LOCKED. Allocation pending]

  Relief. His work disappeared as if it were being erased with a brush. What replaced it horrified him.

  

  Question 3

  

What are your total stats right now?

  

  Oh, shit! Tick. His life dropped to 13. He wasn't so lucky anymore! Not to mention that last question was straight up balls, and why hadn’t his life gone up with his new stats? Before he finished the question in his head, he knew the answer. The allocation was pending. He needed to get the question right before it was assigned. He couldn’t afford to get this wrong. So he took a page out of his math colleagues’ playbook and showed all his work.

  Remi scrawled columns and rows across the chalkboard, boxing numbers into a makeshift stat chart: Base, Caster, Level, Choices, Totals. His handwriting slanted with desperation. He needed to figure out the total bonuses first, then add them to his base stats. He did all the math, as he wasn’t sure if there would be a follow-up question. For a moment, he stood there, chalk dust clinging to his fingertips, the rows of numbers shiny under the fluorescent glare. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. , he thought, I wish I had Excel right now. At least then, the formulas would carry their own weight instead of crushing him.

  

  He knew his time was running out, but he took just a moment to admire his efforts. His final numbers were:

  STR 7 | AGI 10 | END 10

  INT 11 | WIS 9 | LOR 9

  CHA 6 | STL 5 | LUK 6

  Remi double—triple—checked before locking it all in with 10 minutes remaining.

  [HUD CALCULATION Totals Recorded]

  He held his breath. The room flashed green. Relief surged through him so quickly his knees buckled. He forced himself to stand straight, gripping the edge of the board for some needed momentary support.

  When the fluorescent lights returned, they were dimmer, and the room was cast in an ominous shadow.

  

  [Stats Allocated]

  Current HP: 80/100

  Remi felt a sudden flush of relief as his life bar jumped up.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  

  Congratulations, Remi. You’ve earned a brief reprieve from your impending demise. But you don’t get to start fresh; you only get the difference. Also, to keep things interesting, and because there are still only 10 minutes remaining. It’s time for the Rapid Round. Each minute is 8 points of life. I want to see if you can do it. This whole thing is very exciting.

  

  Part 3: Word Problems

  5 questions remained. Remi felt panic rising but forced himself to focus.

  

  Question 4A:

  

A Goober Goblin is carrying a sack of turnips weighing 4.6 kg, though only 2.1 kg are edible. Its mother, a Goober Matriarch with a max HP of 375 and an emotional damage resistance of +15%, is chasing it at 5 km/h from a village 12 km away where the current temperature is 18°C and it's partially cloudy with a 13.49% likelihood of rain. If the Goblin began its journey at 8:15 AM and loses 0.3 kg of turnips per hour because of rattling, what is Remi’s Dodge Chance if the goblin swings his turnip sack at him? Remi’s AGI is 10, and the formula is (10% + (AGI x 2%)).

  Remi almost lost his shit. He couldn’t help himself. Fucking Math Teachers! Most of the figures were a distraction. He needed only what was at the end. He scribbled rapidly on the board.

  AGI = 10

  10% + (10 x 2%)

  10% +20% = 30% dodge chance.

  He boxed his answer. The room flashed green, and he noted his life had ticked down once. 9 minutes, 4 questions, and 72 health remaining. Remi steadied himself. Time to focus and isolate for x, and solve for kicking this test in its asymptote.

  The next four problems came rapid fire, each worse than the last. He calculated the crit chance of striking a skeletal ward rune. The trap detection percentage for the hidden floor glyph. An initiative calculation to beat a pack of rabid capybaras. Who could ever not love those cuddly things? It should have been his initiative to hug them instead. And the last problem: a multi-metric nightmare combining them all into a single lethal equation.

  He received a warning just as he started his last question.

  

  [NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE – CRITICAL TIME WARNING]

  Remi is trapped in a collapsing glyph hallway while being chased by a giant emotional support skinny pig named Nugget, travelling at 2 km/h east. It’s wearing a top hat and a monocle and has a fur density is 45 follicles per mm2 but only on its face, and it sheds at a rate of 0.3 grams per kilometre. Meanwhile…

  It went on and on. He could barely think anymore. Remi blinked at the problem, brain stuttering on skinny pig fur density and centrifugal crumb force. He wanted to scream. Who writes these questions? Instead, he scrawled the formulas, his life bar ticking down with each passing second. The final glyph collapse counterattack needed everything: Crit Chance, Dodge Chance, Trap Detection, Initiative… all to align in one perfect calculation. His hand scribbled answers in smudged white dust, the numbers bleeding together under his exhausted gaze. So much math!

  His life bar pulsed 3 HP… 2 HP… 1 HP.

  He boxed the answer. The room froze. The silence echoed. In the end, the answer he got was 73%. He stood trembling, sweat dripping from his chin onto the chalk tray. He hadn’t just learned math. No, math had learned him!

  

  [TEST COMPLETE]REMAINING LIFE: 6 HP

  STATUS: Barely alive. Unlike the goblin.

  REWARD: The stats are your reward. Don’t be a greedy Gus!

  

  Well done!

  Remi let out a shaky laugh. Sure, he knew knowledge was its own reward, but usually it didn’t come with the risk of cardiac arrest. A calculator might have been nice. Hell, even a half-dried Expo marker or a rickety overhead projector would have felt like a gift. But a pat on the head and an ‘atta boy! He just couldn’t let it slide.

  Remi[AI

  Remi[AI

  Remi[AI

  Remi[AI

  Remi[AI

  Remi[AI

  

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  REWARD: The Obligatory Loot Box of PYTHIAgorean’s Truth!

  The loot box materialized with the usual hum of system theatrics—except this one came with a whisper, like wind through an old library, followed immediately by a brittle SNAP, like someone had stepped on a twig in the woods.

  It wasn't a chest. Or a scroll. Or even a sleek data cache. No, it was a head.

  A bust-style container. Head, shoulders, beard—the whole Enlightenment-relic-meets-bobblehead vibe. The surface looked like aged marble, complete with chisel marks and fake patina, but when Remi tapped it, it thunked like it had been 3-D printed. It felt somehow both sacred and embarrassingly flimsy.

  The expression was that of a solemn prophet with his eyes glazed, beard flowing, and posture in intentional reflection. Not like the statue of the thinker, more like the I’m trying to look like I’m a thinker. It was as if the prophet had gone cross-eyed from staring too long at a broken equation. One eye glowed faintly. The other looked off to the side, lacking the ability to focus.

  Spirals and fractal formulas had been carved into the beard, snaking through the curls in perfect chaos. Some equations were accurate. Others made Remi’s brain hiccup. One read: Sin =? Another simply looped: why = why = why =.

  Remi knew the answer to both. Sin is the opposite over the hippopotamus. And the other is simply because! At least, that is what he told Bea all the time. He smiled. Having fun in math for the first time today. He reached for it cautiously. As his fingers brushed the plastic-stone surface, the wonky one snapped forward, and then blinked. The mouth creaked open like a Pez dispenser, revealing—of course—a single item nestled inside.

  A sticker, which it spat out onto the floor with a loud hacking sound followed by a slow mechanical hiss. No divine light. Just phlegm noises and a sticker.

  Remi picked it up. It was shiny and made of the cheap faux metal holographic stuff found on school certificates. Slightly curled at the edges. At its centre, in oversized typeface:

  1 + 1 = 3 – 2 = 1 = ?

  The formula shimmered faintly, as if uncertain whether it was an equation or a warning.

  The top arc of the oval read: PROPERTY OF Delphi! The bottom edge, in bold serif lettering: Know Thyself!

  As he watched, quotes started to appear and disappear behind the formula.

  “It adds up. Until it doesn’t.”

  “The numbers are watching.”

  “Prophets do math in reverse.”

  [Remi]

  [AI]

  The BRRRRRRIIIINNNNNGGGG! of the bell marked the end of the period.

  [AI

  The system spat out the notification, like it too were a sticker.

  

  Ding! [LEVEL UP!]

  [Level: 4]

  Remi had passed the test. He’d even been given a sticker.

  But as he walked toward the door and his second class, he paused. Reached for the handle. Touched his forehead to the cool metal. His arms trembled from writing. His fingers were still dusted with chalk that clung like alabaster ash.

  For a moment, he just breathed, trying to calm the echo of numbers clattering around his skull.

  If Math class had almost killed him, what would Science offer?

  Exhaustion made him indifferent. He didn’t smile, or even care about the level up like he should. He opened the door and walked out of the room; letting the system to celebrate alone.