Launch Day—I Can Reroll Talents Forever? – “My head is killing me.” “What’s this soft thing on me?” “…and why does it smell so good?” Su Nian forced his eyes open. Sprawled across his chest was a girl in a blue-and-white school uniform. He bolted upright. His mind snapped into clarity in a single jarring second. I’m alive? No—wait. Didn’t Haoyue, that bastard, lock me in the demon’s lair? Didn’t a Blood Demon drain me dry? His eyes finally adjusted to the room. This was his bedroom. From ten years ago. He’d been reborn. The girl on his chest stirred. “Mmmh…” Su Yu sat up, rubbing her temple with a delicate hand.
Her face—small, pretty, faintly flushed—twisted in confusion. I just came in to wake him up… how did I pass out? She looked over and found him staring at her like she was a ghost. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Hey. What are you spacing out for? Don’t tell me you’re skipping class to play games again.” “There’s a free health screening today.” “Just because you’re top of the grade with three perfect scores doesn’t mean you can ditch and game all day.” “Games have no future, you know.” Su Nian’s eyes went somewhere far away. “Is that so?” He remembered exactly what was coming. A VR MMO called Divine Domain was about to launch. Within months it would be the biggest game on Earth. Then, three years from now, monsters would tear out of the game and into the real world. The planet’s own will—call it instinct, call it survival—would fuse Divine Domain with reality itself. Player levels. Talents. Gear.
Skills. Everything earned in-game would carry into real life. And today… Today was launch day. He glanced at the girl in front of him. In his past life, after this morning’s free health screening, the doctor would tell her to get her head checked at a real hospital. The diagnosis: malignant brain tumor. Six months to live. Those six months had been his personal nightmare. If he was reborn, and he couldn’t change that—what was the point of any of this? “Hmph.” Su Yu’s pout snapped him out of it. “Fine. Play your stupid games. Like anyone could ever out-play you anyway.” She huffed and stomped out, slamming the door behind her. Can’t beat him on exams. Can’t beat him in a fight. What am I supposed to do? Her ears burned as she marched down the hall. Fine. I’ll grind in secret. One day I’ll crush him.
Press him under my foot. Hmph. The door clicked shut. Su Nian’s eyes shot to the clock. Two and a half minutes until 7:00 AM. Until launch. He remembered the post. The one he’d read in his last life, years too late to use. A leaked dev confession. “At launch, there was a two-minute window where players could re-roll their starter talents an unlimited number of times. The bug was patched two minutes after server open. We could never confirm whether anyone actually exploited it.” “Just in time.” He swung out of bed and climbed into the VR pod his entire summer’s savings had bought him. Divine Domain. Launch sequence. The game wasn’t live yet, but the login screen was open for identity verification.
Su Nian scanned his face. Approved. The world around him dissolved. When his eyes refocused, he was standing in a vast empty grassland. He looked at his own hands and feet. If he didn’t already know his consciousness was inside the game, he’d never have guessed this body was virtual. 39s. 38s. He watched the countdown shrink. The forum post had to be real. He’d know in two minutes. 18s. 17s. He rubbed his hands together. Two minutes. That’s how long he had to roll a talent that would rewrite his entire life. Here we go. The countdown hit zero. Three glowing blue orbs appeared in front of him, each unfurling a description. [Rank-D Talent — Thickness: +3% maximum HP.] [Rank-D Talent — Sense: Detect everything within 100 meters.] [Rank-C Talent — Shadow Step: 10% chance to teleport behind an enemy after taking damage.] “Trash luck,” Su Nian muttered. His hands flew.
Right hand: tap Confirm Selection. [You must choose a talent before continuing.] Left hand, same instant: tap Exit Game. [Are you sure you want to exit?] [Yes / No?] “No!” The three orbs flickered—and refreshed. “It works.” His eyes lit up. [Rank-D Talent — Cooldown.] [Rank-D Talent — Combo.] [Rank-D Talent — Quickstep.] “Three D-ranks. Again.” He kept rerolling. His hands moved faster. The orbs blurred—D, D, C, three more D’s, a B once. Then—a purple orb. His pupils contracted. [Rank-B Talent — Beast Hunter: Your attacks deal +60% damage to wild monsters.] His eyes flicked to the clock. 7:01. One minute left. He hesitated for half a second. Then he kept rolling. Information from a past life is the only edge I have. If I’m not going to gamble now—when? The Beast Hunter orb vanished. Half a minute slipped by. 26s. 25s. His hands moved fast enough to leave afterimages. 15s. 14s. Then—a flash of blinding gold. He froze. His hands stopped half a beat too late—but it was enough. A golden orb.
Legendary. [Ultra-S Rank Talent — Percentage Execute (Upgradeable):] [Every basic attack has a 0.01% chance to instantly kill the target. Ignores all defenses, all level differences, all conditions.] [Note: This talent stacks. If your basic attack fails to execute, your next attack gains +0.01% execute chance. Stacking continues until you successfully kill the target.] “…what.” “Ultra-S? Upgradeable?” Su Nian’s brain short-circuited. Talents in Divine Domain ran D, C, B, A, S. He’d never even heard of Ultra-S. He knew the rankings inside out. A B-rank meant a smooth ride. An A-rank meant guilds would throw money at you. The Power Rankings—when they finally appeared—would be all S-ranks at the top. He’d just rolled something above S. That could be upgraded. That instantly killed enemies. That stacked. That ignored everything. “By the math…” “At 0.01%, in 10,000 basic attacks I one-shot any boss. And if the chance stacks the whole time…” How was anyone else supposed to play this game? His head buzzed. Forget bosses. Forget the leaderboards. In three years, when the monsters tore into the real world— You want to invade? Let’s see who’s invading who. He locked the talent in. No hesitation. The screen shifted.
Class selection. He scanned the lineup. His past-life main was Archer—attack speed, mobility, damage. The perfect fit. He didn’t pick it. Because he remembered something else. A rare amulet—the Ancient Necklace—that could only be found inside a starter village. It added 10% max HP and had one unique effect: it set your max HP equal to the highest single hit your basic attack had ever dealt. If his basic ever hit ten thousand… his HP cap became ten thousand. Combined with his talent? Damage was solved. What he needed was guaranteed hits. His execute only triggered on a successful strike. Archers could miss. Priests couldn’t. Priest basic attacks were ranged, auto-locked, 100% accuracy—the game’s apology for the class doing pitiful damage. 100% accuracy meant 100% of his execute rolls would actually fire. And Priest healing scaled off max-HP percentage. With his necklace stacking, one heal could top off a million HP. Range, accuracy, control, healing, and a one-shot button.