The die fell on a five. It fell just short of the maximum, something Mark strongly identified with, and then wondered why he felt so strongly about this stupid thing. Then its color changed.

"Huh?"

Was it like a magic eight ball, with fluid inside it that when you shook it up the color of the crystal would change? He picked it up again--only for it to phase through his hand as it dissipated like smoke in the wind. He drew his limb back as if he'd been shocked.

"What the f--"

A buzzing from his phone alerted him to an incoming text message. His heart suddenly soared into his throat--maybe his teacher had finally gotten back to him about private lessons? The mysterious die forgotten for the moment, he grabbed up the phone and opened the message.

"From...error? Unknown number?"

He knew a phone number could be blocked from view, but did it work the same way for texts? Couldn't he just...reply? He read the contents of the message, and word by word his eyes grew larger.

"You rolled a five...current points, five. Parameters...What the hell is going on here?"

Endurance, Intelligence, Strength...Appearance. Sociability. The list went on, like a character sheet for a D&D game that covered every possible trait a person could ever have. There were twenties in most of them...was that supposed to be the average number?

"How'd they know I rolled a 5? And who the hell is the judge who decided what my numbers get to be!?"

There were even Quests, offering more dice as reward! His heart beat a little faster. This couldn't be possible. It couldn't be possible to just roll a magic die and somehow level up in real life. Was this a prank? How could a prank make a die disappear into thin air? He read the quests more closely. They were...challenging him. Him, personally. They wanted him to take initiative, to show off his manuscript, or continue his martial arts, or run a marathon, or...

"I'M SORRY, FUCK YOU?!"

[i]Flirt with a girl. Successfully ask a girl on a date. Get consent to touch a girl's chest.[/i]

"MOTHERFUCKER YOU BETTER HOPE TO GOD I CAN'T TRACE THIS BULLSHIT."

What's more, those quests offered more dice than the others! Okay, fine, he knew he was a loser, he hadn't had a girlfriend since he was fifteen, and he...he was still a virgin...but, but...

He gripped the phone with white knuckles, glaring molten hatred at the snarky text message.

"Alright, fine. Let's actually think about this, if for no other reason than to feel less like we're being made fun of by an unknown entity." he said through grinding teeth.

Endurance, Intelligence, and Strength were highest. Intelligence was obvious--[i]there you go being all high and mighty again, when you barely got out of college[/i]--and Endurance made sense. He wasn't super strong or super fast, compared to people he had trained with. But he had always been the favorite practice partner of everyone at the dojo, because he could always jump right back up after being thrown or strangled or punched. Overall, the stats were a good judge of his abilities. 

If he only had a certain number of points to spend, then he could possibly keep pumping his specialities...Would it have an effect, here in the real world? If it did...could he actually become some kind of superhuman? Pump strength until he could benchpress trucks? Increase Agility until he could run like a...like a...

He remembered an old viral video about a fictional energy drink. [i]Powerthirst! You'll run as fast as KENYANS![/i]

Was that racist?

He shook his head to clear the stupid stuff. If these points had an actual effect in the real world...Was there really any use for that kind of ability?

"I could possibly get stronger, faster, and smarter just by working out more and reading more, doing more. I mean...I still suck, but I've been trying to do these exercises again for like a month and a half now, even before the dojo closed." He paced as he talked to himself; when he was alone, this was how he focused. "I've raised the number of pushups I can do from 20 to 55, and when I first started running again I could only do a mile and a half in thirty minutes." He looked at his phone.

"Hmm...Sociability is my worst one. But...maybe if I had an actual reason to be social, I could get better at that with practice too..."

Working out would also mean losing weight. But, even if he cut his weight down to what he wanted it to be...there were parts of his genetics he'd never be able to change, not without extensive and expensive surgery. And what did he want out of life, anyway? Did he need to be able to benchpress a truck? What use would he get out of that? Sure, maybe he could be a superhero, stop crime or something. But he wouldn't be bulletproof. Or able to fly. Or able to hear a crime occurring miles away.

He wanted a life where he made enough goddamn money that he didn't have to do a damn thing anymore, and could focus on reading or playing games or training. And he wanted...

He wanted somebody to love him. It wasn't just about sex, about losing his V-card. That was why he had never gone out and tried to hook up with anyone, or go to bars or parties. He didn't want a fling, and he didn't want to grab the first girl he saw. He wanted an actual relationship.

"Human beings are shallow, regardless of whether or not they want to be." He admitted to himself, "In the end, I do want sex. I want a relationship, but I do very much want sex. But I don't have the confidence or the social skill...but..."

Why not? It was a simple and ugly truth of the world. Beautiful people were more successful. So, at least this one time, to test out whether or not these Dice Points actually did anything...

He looked at his phone. How was he supposed to do this? Did he just...maybe...

He sent a reply.

"[b]Put all 5 Points into Appearance.[/b]"

Then he ran to the bathroom mirror, looking closely at his face. There were three moles on his face: one on his cheek, one just between his nose and his lips, and one right on the side of his mouth. They were almost perfectly aligned diagonally, and bullies used to call him "Tic-Tac-Face." He had always thought his nose was a little too big. And that his ears stuck out too far from his head. Then of course there was the fat in his cheeks, in his neck. Would that be something he'd just have to exercise more to get rid of? His teeth had never been Hollywood white. He'd had braces when he was younger, so they were alright as far as straightness and orderly-ness went, but they weren't movie star perfect either.

Then, as he watched...